Loot, Shopping & Harlots
by Late to the Party
Summary: Three friends sit around playing a game. That game is Baldur's Gate. Baldur's Gate like you've never seen it before. AU.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own any of the names, characters, setting contained within. Bioware/Black Isle/Interplay does, with the exceptions of 'Jamie', 'Rachel', and the nameless narrator…**

* * *

Prologue

"Nestled atop the cliffs that rise from the Sword Coa–"

"Boring. Let's skip to the action."

"Yeah, I want to see what's in the shops."

"All right, so, you're raised within the library fortress of Candlekeep, which houses the most comprehensive collection of writings on the face of Faerun. You've been raised by the sage Gorion for your past twenty years of life, on a thousand tales of–"

"I'm a Drow."

"And I'm a thief."

"Rogue. We're playing 3.5–"

"No way! You said this was ADnD."

"Guys please–"

"You're seriously gonna make me reroll my character?"

"What about mine! D'you know how long it took me to work out poison saves, paralysation–"

"ADnD sucks."

"3.5 sucks more!"

"Do you wanna play or not?"

"Fine, fine."

"Geez, you don't have to sound like you're our _mom_."

"I've got the sheets here. So you're gonna play the lead–"

"Why does _he_ get to play the lead?"

"Because you don't know what you're doing."

"Make him stop smirking!"

"You want to play a thief? I've got one here – her name's Imoen, she's Charname's friend."

"A girl? I don't want a girlfriend! I'm a Drow! Drow don't need no one. I'm an outcast, an exile–"

"She's got pink hair. And no, you're not. You're raised by the Sage Gorion, away from the Underdark."

"Pink? Cool!"

"This sucks."

"So, Imoen's a rogue who later can become a mage–"

"Multiclassing is stupid!"

"Arcane Trickster. PrC."

"Really? You're gonna let me take a prestige class? No catch?"

"Yeah, really."

"What about the Arcane Scholar of Candlekeep?"

"This isn't NWN2."

"I thought you two wanted to get on with it?"


	2. I

I

"Gorion: 'You must learn to be patient, child. Everything will be explained in due time–'"

"'Yeah, whatever.'"

"Ahem. Stay in character, if you please."

"Oh, yeah. Um. 'Vith do–'"

"You _respect_ your foster father. And your character hasn't learnt drow."

"Hasn't – aw man, so I can't cuss?"

"Nope."

"Ha ha."

"Quit that, _Imoen_."

"Hey! Be nice!"

"Guys?"

"Right, right. So uh – give me a moment… can I roll for this?"

"Roll for what?"

"My reaction, like, I'm a Dread Fang. Assassin, Drow Wanderer–"

"You're level one. Where's your base class?"

"Um. Rogue, I guess?"

"Hey, I'm a rogue! You can't be one as well!"

"Yeah, but you're a _girl_!"

"So? Can't you be a Warlock or something?"

"Warlocks suck. 'Sides, they wouldn't be allowed in Candlekeep, would they?"

"No Warlocks. Or Dread Fangs."

"What about assassins?"

"And who would you assassinate?"

"Um… Tethtoril!"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Railroading!"

"No it's not, stupid. You can't kill people in Candlekeep."

"She _hit_ me!"

"You deserved it."

"Guys – no hitting. Gorion's still waiting."

"Vhalyn: 'Very well, father.'"

"Valen? You called him _Valen_?"

"What's wrong with Vhalyn?"

"Valen is a girl's name."

"No it's not, and his name's _Vhalyn_, not _Valen_. It's drow."

"Gorion wouldn't give him a drow name. He'd choose a human or elf name."

"Like what?"

"Aerys."

"That's a stupid name. Besides, it isn't even Elfish, it's Greek. Ares was the god–"

"'Go and speak to Winthrop. He will give you what you need. His prices are fair.'"

"Who's that?"

"Gorion, duh."

"Vhalyn: I walk over to the shop."

"It's a tavern. Weren't you listening?"

"Fine, tavern. Vhalyn: I walk to the tavern."

"You see a large, portly man–"

"'Sup Fattie?"

"Jamie!"

"Uh, Vhalyn says nothing."

"He says he's 'big boned'. Winthrop: 'My 'otel's as clean as an elven arse'."

"Eww! You did not just say that!"

"Quit it, Rachel, you're not even _in_ the tavern. Is she?"

"She can be cleaning one of the tables."

"Why would Imoen clean anything? She's a rogue–"

"Winthrop's her carer."

"Carer? Like, what, her father?"

"Foster father figure. Guardian."

"So who's her parents?"

"You don't know."

"Yeah, and who're my parents?"

"You don't know."

"Huh?"

"This is so cliché."

"Listen, Gorion brought Imoen to Candlekeep when she was about eight or so – you don't remember life before that. Imoen stays with Winthrop, who she calls 'Puffguts', because he's fat and wheezes on the stairs. Puffguts is an old friend of Gorion. For you, he rarely speaks of your mother, but her name is 'Aliana'–"

"What kind of drow name is that? She should be called… uh… Ph– mother of spiders, yeah. Mother of Spiders. But she's secretly an Eilistraee worshipper, trying to bring freedom to the drow. But she betrays them–"

"No."

"Shut up, J."

"Thank you Rachel. Now–"

"I want to see what you've got."

"_In_ _character_."

"Fine. Vhalyn: Show me your wares, if it pleases you."

"Winthrop has a selection of wares, ranging from weapons and armour–"

"What armour? Any mithril light chain?"

"No, he only has basic arms and armour. Gorion has given you 100gp."

"100gp? I can't buy _anything_ with that!"

"J, shut up."

"So what _can_ I get?"

"You can buy studded leather armour, and a shortbow. A dagger."

"Huh?"

"Winthrop's a friend of Gorion's."

"Okay, so what else can I buy?"

"What do you want?"

"Uh… ten foot pole."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's a tavern, not a circus."

"Okay, um, how about… a torch?"

"You can have a torch."

"Bedroll?"

"All right."

"Silver mirror!"

"What do you want a silver mirror for?"

"To shave."

"You're a drow."

"Maybe I shave my head."

"Why do you really want it?"

"To turn basilisks to stone."

"No."

"Aw, c'mon – I thought Candlekeep was meant to house all knowledge?"

"It – fine. You can have your silver mirror. If it'll stop you from beating one out of silver coins…"

"Whoo! Uh – flying carpet?"

"No."

"What about some alchemist's fire?"

"It's a tavern."

"Lockpicks?"

"Tavern."

"Aw, c'mon. What about healing potions?"

"You need to see the priest for those."

"Okay, um, any magic items?"

"None that Winthrop has for sale."

"Can I steal them?"

"No thieving is tolerated within Candlekeep."

"But does he have any?"

"He has a ring of protection +1."

"I want to cause a distraction–"

"Quit hogging it, Jamie. I want a go."

"All right, Rachel; Imoen is busy scrubbing a table: she looks up and sees her childhood friend Vhalyn enter and speak to Winthrop. He sounds as if he's going on a journey. Earlier that day, you broke into Gorion's office and read a letter on his des–"

"Hey! How come she gets to break into stuff?"

"I'm Imoen, and I'm better than you."

"The letter warns of a… here, you read it. Don't let Jamie see it."

"What? I don't metagame!"

"Even so. Now – Imoen."

"Um… what's he look like?"

"He's a drow, stupid. White hair, red eyes; he's dashing, handsome, clad in black–"

"He's wearing a monk's robe."

"Monk's robe? What the–"

"It's blue, or green. Chanters wear yellow robes. It has a hood, no distinctive features and falls to the feet. He's wearing sandals."

"I want to wear leather underneath it."

"Where do you get leather from?"

"I… bought it. Last winter. In… Flamerule. When a travelling merchant came to visit. I bartered it in exchange for sexu–"

"Eww! GROSS!"

"No. You can wear trousers under it."

"Jamie, stop smirking! You're disgusting!"

"Vhalyn ignores Imoen."

"Hey! I hadn't even – you're such a jerk. Imoen: 'Imoen looks at Jamie – uh, Vhalyn, and smiles to herself. She knows something he doesn't.' So there."

"That's your – fine! Vhalyn looks over Winthrop's wares, and walks out."

"You guys are meant to be friends."

"We uh –"

"We had a fight. Last night."

"Yeah. Over– um… what was it over, J?"

"Ale. I wanted to get drunk and have–"

"No! Oh, I hate you so much!"

"What? Imoen's a hottie."

"Imoen has freckles, still has her baby-fat–"

"Baby fat?"

"Yeah, but she's not flat is she?"

"Gorion wouldn't allow a relationship."

"We're both rogues; Gorion doesn't have to know. She's hot, and we're friends."

"I'm not having Imoen do that with _Vhalyn_."

"Why not?"

"Gorion would know. He's a sage. With scrying magic."

"So he spies on us? That's sick, man."

"He's a creepy old pervert? Imoen in her bath?"

"Gorion wouldn'–"

"Then he wouldn't know if Vhalyn helps wash her back."

"Vhalyn is _not washing Imoen's back!_"

"So, Imoen says nothing and Vhalyn ignores she's there. They had an argument over… cards."

"We gamble? What were the stakes? A blo–"

"SHUT UP JAMIE!"

"Chores. You gambled over chores."

"Who won? I bet it was Vhalyn."

"Let me roll."

"I want to roll too."

"Okay, both of you roll: let's compare the slight of hand."

"You saying I'm cheating?"

"Imoen wouldn't lose to _Vhalyn._"

"Then roll two dice without skill modifiers."

"I got a four."

"I got a six."

"Imoen won at cards."

"Best of three!"

"All right, roll again…"

"Hah! Six! Beat you this time, you little punk!"

"Six!"

"What the–"

"Roll again."

"Three."

"ONE! Can't believe it–"

"Imoen wins two sets. Roll for the last."

"No way. This is stupid."

"Ha ha. Imoen beats Vhalyn."

"She cheated. She rigged the deck."

"DID NOT!"

"Did too. That's how Vhalyn lost. A drow would never lose to a human."

"So Vhalyn thinks Imoen rigged the deck, and Imoen maintains she didn't. That's what the argument was about."

"So if Vhalyn lost, why is Imoen cleaning the tables?"

"Winthrop found out about the game and made you do your chores."

"What a loser. I hate Candlekeep…"

"Yeah, let's get out of here."


	3. II

II

"Armoured Figure: 'Hand over your ward, and no one will be hurt.'

"Gorion: 'You're a fool if you think I'd trust your benevol–'"

"I throw a knife."

"Jamie!"

"All right, you interrupt the speech. One of the armoured figured–"

"Wait, hold up. So there are two ogres and a woman there? Is she hot?"

"It's too dark to see–"

"Drow."

"Okay. She's got dark hair and tanned skin; she might be Kara-Turan."

"So like, Japanese?"

"Jamie, Faerun doesn't _have_ Japan."

"Yeah it does. Haven't you read–"

"Guys?"

"Right, so I throw the knife at the woman."

"Jamie!"

"What? She's some kind of kung-fu expert, isn't she?"

"They don't practice kung-fu in Japan, idiot."

"This isn't Japan; it's Faerun."

"Guys."

"Geez, all right. So Vhalyn throws his knife – it's a throwing knife right? You said I had five of them?"

"Yeah, you've got five. Roll a dice."

"…Uh, four."

"She beats you."

"WHAT? COME ON!"

"She beats you. The knife bounces harmlessly off her armour and is lost somewhere in the grass. She looks balefully at you."

"Great…"

"Hah, that'll teach you."

"Just you wait, Rachel…"

"The armoured figure grows angry at the interruption. His speech is well rehearsed and now he's mad. He pulls out a huge sword, taller than Vhalyn–"

"Vhalyn's short-stuff, though."

"Taller than _you_, Imoen."

"No he's not!"

"And swings it at Gorion. Let me roll. Okay, Gorion casts a spell you don't know. It encases him in a golden sphere–"

"Why don't I know it?"

"You're a rogue."

"Jamie, shut up."

"The sword bounces harmlessly off the shield. Gorion casts 'magic missile'."

"So I recognise magic missile, but not–"

"Okay, five pink orbs of light–"

"Pink? That's my colour! Did Gorion teach me?"

"You're not a mage yet stupid!"

"Red! The magic missile stars are red."

"What shade?"

"Crimson. There are five of them–"

"Isn't that ADnD?"

"Listen, Gorion attacks with magic missile."

"Is he powerful? 'Cuz Magic Missile is level one."

"All right; scratch that. Give me a moment. Lightning bolt."

"Mirror Image?"

"That's level two, Rachel. How powerful is he? Lightning bolt is stupid; he should use chain lightning. Wait, hang on… is he a Theurge, or a Cleric with the Magic Domain? Knowledge? If so, what god does he–"

"It's not important. You don't know."

"But–"

"You're a rogue."

"Geez."

"You wanted 3.5. In ADnD, he'd be a cleric-mage. It's not important."

"Okay, but I hope the–"

"Jamie, _will_ you shut up? You're a bleedin' rules lawyer. And quit sittin' back and folding your arms; how old are you? Eight?"

"After several more spells, the armoured figure cuts Gorion down."

"WHAT?"

"The _Chain Lightning_ has killed the ogres and leaves the Kara-Turan stunned. Gorion's last command to you is to flee."

"No way–"

"Then you're dead."

"Fine. I run away like a sissy girl. Like Imoen."

"HEY!"

"Morning finds you cold; the armoured figure abandoned the search after you–"

"Ran like a quivering rabbit."

"Hide in the shrubs by the trees."

"You didn't tell me there were trees."

"There are. To the North is Cloakwood, to the south is–"

"Cloakwood? Cool! Let's go there–"

"Gorion told you if anything happened to him, to head to the Friendly Arm Inn. 'There you will meet Khalid and Jaheira; they have long been my friends and you can trust them–'"

"When?"

"Before you left Candlekeep."

"Yeah, but you also had two guys try to kill me."

"Right?"

"So, maybe they overheard. Did Gorion cast Stoneskin? Vhalyn… read about that. And Fireball! Finger of Death!"

"Can we focus?"

"Yeah, Jamie!"

"Yeah, but if the armoured figure knew we were coming–"

"Vhalyn is still in shock, and doesn't know why he was attacked, and isn't thinking clearly."

"Railroading."

"You just lost your father."

"Foster father."

"Yes, your foster father."

"So why should I care?"

"Jamie!"

"All right, all right. Am I supposed to be good aligned?"

"Neutral, or good."

"But not evil?"

"Gorion wouldn't have raised you to be evil–"

"I might be evil inside; nature vs. nurture–"

"Quit being so difficult; play a neutral good drow, J."

"A neutral good rogue?"

"I am!"

"You're a pink haired–"

"That's enough. You're hidden in the bushes, having cowered there until dawn. The mist finds you, cold, damp and low. You are devastated at the loss of your foster father, and you feel lost and alone. Out of the gloom–"

"I draw my sword."

"You draw your sword. Out of the gloom, a figure emerges. Roll for a listen check, please."

"Me? Oh! I get it! Imoen to the rescue!"

"What? Imoen–"

"You don't know it's Imoen."

"Great. Can I smell her?"

"If you roll for it."

"Well?"

"Four."

"Two."

"You see Imoen emerging from the gloom. Her scent is known to–"

"You're saying I'm smelly? Imoen is not smelly!"

"Imoen works in a tavern; she cleans up ale spills and stables horses. She stinks!"

"I hate you!"

"You've been camping out in the bushes all night. You're not exactly a bed of roses either."

"Yeah, but I'm a drow."

"So what?"

"You've not washed since you left."

"Fine."

"So, my turn?"

"Roll initiative."

"Two."

"Five!"

"Imoen gets prerogative."

"Okay, um, what do I say? Oh wait, I know! 'Heya, it's me, Imoen!'"

"You moron."

"Hey, that's not nice!"

"In-character, please."

"Vhalyn scowls. 'What are you doing here? Did you follow me? ARE YOU STALKING ME?'"

"'Uh… woah, calm down.' Did I follow him? Oh. Okay. 'Uh, yeah. 'Cause, y'know, I care – and, oh my gods, I'm _so_ sorry about ole Mister G.' How's that?"

"It's good, Rachel. Your turn, Jamie."

"Yeah, well, you're a stalker and I don't app–"

"You are meant to be friends."

"Fine. Vhalyn: 'Sorry. I thought you were here to kill me…'"

"Oh. Um. Well, we're friends! I'm here to help."

"How can _you_ help me?"

"Hey, that's not nice! Friends' help each other out! I, uh, I'm not going anywhere without you!"

"You need to go back; Gorion's dead. They killed him."

"Who killed him?"

"I don't know. They wanted me…"

"All the more reason to stay!"

"You'll get killed if you stay with me, you idiot. Go back where it's safe!"

"Nuh-uh. Never let a friend down. 'Sides, I'll only follow you. You can't make me go."

"Can't I?"

"Jamie!"

"Vhalyn: 'If I can't make you leave…' I raise my sword threatening."

"Imoen: I stick my lower lip out and pout. 'I'm not leaving you. You're my friend.'"

"Vhalyn scowls."

"Gorion's last instruction–"

"'I'm not heading to the Friendly Arm Inn,' Vhalyn announces."

"'We can't go back to Candlekeep!'"

"'Didn't say we would. We're heading to…'"

"'Beregost?'"

"'No, too dangerous. We need to hide.'"

"'But – but what about the… the… Gorion?'"

"'He's dead.'"

"'We could raise him at a temple?'"

"'Us and what money?'"

"'We – we'll have to make some! Oh! I know; there's a temple at Candlekeep; the monks will raise him there.'"

"'We were _ambushed_. They're probably waiting for us back there.'"

"'Okay, so… we leave the body?'"

"'You want me to haul a bloody corpse from here to Candlekeep, half a day away?'"

"'Gorion raised you for twenty years! He raised us both! We can't leave him. The wolves will chew on him. And the bears. We can hide until they raise him, then when he comes looking…'"

"'I don't know.'"

"'Got a better idea?'"

"'Yeah. Actually, I have. We hack off his hand, maybe a finger and–'"

"'Eww! Why are you always so gross? That's horrible!'"

"'Listen, pipsqueak, the priests can cast 'resurrect' with–' I studied with monks and scholars; I think I know what spells they have."

"I didn't say a word."

"Good. Stop glaring at me Rachel. 'a bodypiece.'"

"'Maybe he won't want to come back by then. Ever thought of that, Mister Smartypants?'"

"'Yeah, and you think dragging a bloody corpse back half a day won't draw the wolves to us?'"

"'I hadn't thought of that… uh…'"

"'Besides, I want to see if Gorion had any loot.'"

"JAMIE!"


	4. III

III

"After many days, you reach the mining town of Nashkel. This outpost of Amn has seen better days. What immediately strikes you is the lack of people – Guys?"

"Boring."

"Stop yawning Jamie. Why are there no people?"

"The Iron Crisis has struck the region–"

"What's the Iron Crisis?"

"Are you scatterbrained, or just dumb? It eats all the iron, which is why my sword fell apart and the studs fell off my leather. He told us about it back in Candlekeep."

"Well excuse me for not believing _every_ rumour–"

"Or remembering anything. Can't you tell it's the plot?"

"Yeah, well you were the one who tried to sleep with the barmaid and got us thrown out–"

"Yeah, and you pickpocketed that stupid gnome–"

"You started it!"

"I just said that you wouldn't dare."

"Imoen's not afraid of anything!"

"Imoen's stupid."

"I hate you! I'm gonna show you how much cooler Imoen is, unlike your stupid, broody angsty-pants."

"Why you–"

"The mines are suffering a shortage of workers. Rumours of demons have reached your ears–"

"Cool! Is it a pit fiend? Or a succubus! I want to seduce her–"

"You're so gross. Is that all you ever think about?"

"Stop rolling your eyes at me; you were the one trying to woo 'Garrick'."

"What's wrong with Garrick? He's sweet and has a nice voice–"

"He's a stupid fop with fop-pants and a harp."

"It's a _lyre_, not that _you_ would know the difference–"

"You are greeted by the town guard. 'Halt! Identify yourself.' The guard is clad in chain-mail–"

"Why hasn't it fallen apart?"

"Be quiet, Rachel. I want to know if he has anything I can steal."

"And has a dragon-shaped helm."

"Cool! Let's drag him out back and kill him; you distract him by lifting your shirt–"

"No! Quit being so stupid. Imoen's not flashing anyone. Besides if you steal his helmet, the guards will know it was you."

"You're no fun."

"And Imoen wears a _tunic_, not a shirt."

"Whatever."

"In his hands is a crude spear, hardened in the fire. It seems weapons are in short supply. He lacks a dagger, or a belt knife."

"So like, I can stab him?"

"Gorion raised you better than that."

"Gorion's dead."

"Jamie!"

"Fine, fine. Vhalyn: I clear my throat. 'We are the Black Warriors of–'"

"_Will_ you stop it? Imoen kicks you. 'We're the party of Imoen, and we're here to seek refuge from the night.'"

"Refuge from the night? Seriously? That's so lame. 'We're the party of Vhalyn, and we're here to storm the mines.'"

"We're the party of Imoen!"

"Vhalyn!"

"The guard looks at the bickering duo with impatience and slight confusion. 'You seem suspicious to me. Where are you from?'"

"'Cand–'"

"No you idiot! Don't tell him that! We're being stalked by assassins. _I'm_ being hunted; you're not. How can you be so stupid? Vhalyn interrupts, 'Beregost.'"

"You can't just do that! I want to roll for it."

"You want to roll – are you trying to get us arrested?"

"You know what your problem is? All you want to do is loot, and steal, and kill stuff. Try being honest."

"And your problem is all you care about is being nice, and hearing about dresses, and how farmer's wives live, and how many children they have, and trying to get their daughters to go shopping with you."

"It's fun!"

"No it's not. Shopping sucks."

"All you want to do is look at weapons and armour!"

"So?"

"You don't want to buy them; you want to steal them!"

"I'm a level three rogue."

"So am I!"

"No, you're a level two rogue and a level one mage."

"Yeah, and you'd be dead without my 'identify'."

"At least I can backstab! Who saved us from Tarnesh? I did, that's who!"

"Guys…"

"Anyway, we're not telling him we're from Candlekeep or I quit."

"Fine! Have it your way – when we're in jail, I'll say I told you so."

"If he throws us in jail, we'll escape, loot the town and then burn it to the ground. We'll hit the bank first."

"Nashkel doesn't have a bank."

"What kind of useless town is it?"

"A frontier mining town."

"Does it have a saloon?"

"It's not the Wild West, Jamie. Duh."

"You shut up. It's got gold panners, right?"

"Up in the mountains, yes. But the primary–"

"Iron! Oh, I get it now! _That's_ why we're here! To find out why the iron's rotten!"

"Finally. Took you long enough. Maybe I should call you 'Slowgal' instead of 'Rachel'."

"Please guys?"

"Yeah, let's get on with it."

"Imoen quickly speaks over Vhalyn. 'We're from Beregost, near Candlekeep.'"

"Don't wink at me."

"'I know where Beregost is, lass.' The guard is not amused. 'What is your business here?'"

"'Daddy's tools went rotten; mama is full of fever, and he sits around drunk all day. We don't have no money to pay the priest.' Imoen improvises. 'So we came to get the reward.'"

"The guard isn't sure whether to laugh or glare. After a moment, he says in his growling voice, 'You? You're a pair of kids. You can stay here tonight, but tomorrow, you beat it. I ain't allowing no kids down the mines in search of treasure.'"

"'Is it up to you?' Imoen smiles winsomely at him."

"Winsomely? Imoen? Hah!"

"Quit it Jamie!"

"The guard isn't swayed, but sighs. 'Talk to the mayor about it.'"

"'Where's the mayor?'"

"Who, not where. You have to be polite!"

"'In bed,' the guard replies curtly. 'It's past Gateclose.'"

"'And who is he?' Imoen smiles again. Roll for charisma?"

"It's 'diplomacy', muppet."

"Stop being so mean to me! Just because I don't know all the rules like you do!"

"All right; I got a one. The guard is swayed by your smile. He considers for a moment. 'Mayor Ghastkill can be found outside the temple in the mornings; you can't miss him. He's got a long scar down his face.'"

"What side?"

"The left."

"There, you see, being nice isn't so hard, is it?"

"And if you messed up the roll? He'd have–"

"Oh just give over."

"There is a tavern to your right. It is too dark to see; the few giant torches block out the stars–"

"Drow!"

"Yeah, we know about your 'darkvision'. You only tell us every single time!"

"There are several peasant huts, and a couple of middle-class merchants houses. Nashkel has one store, but it's closed. Only the tavern is open."

"I thought you said Nashkel had an inn?"

"It does. It has a tavern and an inn with a tavern floor. The one to your right is The Nashkel Inn; the one by the river is the Belching Dragon Tavern."

"Eww… that's so gross."

"Stop being such a prude. Dragons burp too."

"Ugh. You boys are so disgusting."

"I'm going to get drunk."

"Gorion wouldn't approve."

"Gorion ain't here."

"Jamie!"

"What? It's my life; he's my character. I can get him drunk and laid if I want. Are there any harlots?"

—

"What do you mean 'under arrest'? How the – we didn't break any laws!"

"You're a minor."

"No I'm not! Faerun doesn't have minors!"

"Amn does."

"No it _doesn't_! Even if it did, I'm _twenty_."

"And a drow."

"Ha! He's got you there."

"If I'm only twenty, how come I'm even walking? Shouldn't I be in swaddling cloth?"

"Uh… nevermind. Forget the guard."

—

"You find a harlot. She's old, wrinkled–"

"What the hell man? No way! I want a young one."

"There are no young ones."

"You gotta be kidding – okay, what about a farmer's daughter?"

"They're all asleep."

"All of them! No shepherdesses watching their flocks at night?"

"No, Nashkel doesn't breed livestock."

"I said sheep, not livestock."

"Nashkel doesn't have sheep."

"Fine. What about barmaids?"

"You might find one who is willing if you go inside."

"Jamie, stop being so disgusting."

"Vhalyn has needs."

"Are you headed inside the inn?"

"I guess. Rachel?"

"Um… I dunno."

"You're hopeless! Okay, fine, let's go to the tavern."

"Eww! No!"

"Then make up your mind!"

"I'm trying to think. Poor little Immy is tired, and her feet hurt. She's got a blister from a stone in her shoe…"

"I don't believe this…"

"Her dress is torn–"

"You said she wore a tunic!"

"She changed. Not everyone wears the same clothes for an entire week."

"Tenday! In Faerun, they have tendays!"

"Calm down, Jamie."

"Don't tell me to calm down–"

"Ahem."

"Anyway, Immy's dress is torn and needs stitching, her socks need washing, and she needs a bath. She also needs to wash her hair. She feels very dirty and smelly, and wants a nice, soft bed with some pink pillows and a sheet. No straw; real cotton. She also wants a nice hot meal without mushrooms and some turnips. A stew would be nice."

"And you think what Vhalyn wants is bad?"

"Jamie, stop rolling your eyes! And yes, it is."

"Okay, Vhalyn goes with her to help wash her hair."

"JAMIE!"

"What?_ 'Imoen's hair is long, and silky, and the dye has faded. It's tangled from sleeping in bushes.'_"

"I never said it like that! My voice isn't so high or whiny!"

"As you step into the inn, a–"

"Oh hell, more assassins. I knew it had to be an ambush! Quick, run! We'll kill them outside; I'll use my darkvision, so they can't see. We'll hide. Hiding in the shadows has to give us a bonus, right?"

"JAMIE! We don't even know if it's a–"

"It's a broad-shouldered woman, clad in tight fitting chain–"

"Forget what I just said. Vhalyn: 'Well hello there. I'm Vhalyn and this is Imoen–'"

"I can't believe your hitting on her!"

"Does she have big b– ow! I told you not to hit me!"

"Stop asking about her bo–"

"It's a fair question; I'm meant to see what Vhalyn sees. If she's not hot, he ain't interested."

"You're so childish."

"Yeah well, if you would have Imoen be better 'friends', he wouldn't need to, would he?"

"…I'm not RPing sex with you!"

"The woman identifies herself as – uh, looks like we're gonna hafta call it a night. Same time next week?"

"Sure."

"Yeah! I wanna know what Immy finds in the store."

"Had fun?"

"Yup! Defo."

"Yeah, aside from Vhalyn hitting on everyone–"

"And stupid Imoen searching all the stores for clothes and jewellery…"

"See you guys at seven."


	5. IV

IV

"Okay guys, welcome back. This is Steve; he's going to be joining us–"

"'Sup?"

"Are you a bard?"

"Ranger."

"Rangers blow."

"…Depends how you play 'em."

"Actually, the group needs a cleric–"

"Overpowered shi–"

"_Jamie_!"

"Guess I could… got someone in mind?"

"Here."

"For Tempest's shield? Nice."

"She's a girl! You're making him play a girl?"

"Be quiet Jamie! Nice to meet you Stevie."

"I don't mind; 'sides, girls get the most fun. Didn't anyone ever tell you?"

"Anyway, last time we gathered, we were going to–"

"I want chain mail this time. Armour!"

"Thieves can't wear chain–"

"3.5. 'Sides, it's a disguise see. Next level, I'm going to take fighter."

"Didn't you say multiclassing was weak?"

"Yeah, but I looked something up. I'm gonna be a Blackguard. All dark an' shi–"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're not evil."

"I could be–"

"No way; Imoen'd never travel with an evil guy."

"I'm a drow; it's in my nature–"

"Guys, chill. So where'm I?"

"Thanks Steve. Now, you two are in the tavern, and there's this woman clad in–"

"The hottie?"

"…Yeah, the hottie. Except for the disfigured nose–"

"EWW!"

"– and scar across her eye–"

"Cool! How old is she?"

"Early twenties."

"Why didn't you say fifty?"

"Rachel, Jamie, can I recap where we were?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Sorry…"

"Anyway, Steve, I'll introduce you soon. Now, this tavern – there aren't many people in it; the bartender is polishing his mugs, there's a cheery fire in the hearth, but the place looks run down. Spilt, day old ale still saturates the floorboards, and the tables are rickety. Vhalyn addressed the woman, and now she answers: 'Hello, child, you seem to be lost.'"

"Creeper!"

"Yeah, that is fuc–"

"_JAMIE_!"

"–king weird. I'm out of here–"

"IC, guys."

"Vhalyn doesn't like her missing tooth."

"What missing tooth? Stop making stuff up!"

"She can have a missing tooth. So what does Vhalyn do next?"

"He stabs her."

"…In a tavern? The town guard–"

"Quit being stupid! He doesn't stab her. Imoen grabs his arm, and smiles up at the creepy lady. She tells her, um, give me a minute. What would Imoen say? Jamie? Steve?"

"Ask her about the town?"

"Yeah! That's a good idea."

"'Is there a brothel in town?'"

"JAMIE!"

"'Where you're going, you won't need a brothel…'"

"That is so _creepy_!"

"She pulls out a club."

"From where?"

"Her belt. Roll Initiative–"

"No way. She's in a tavern, and she just pulls out a club? But you won't let me stab her? For real? What about the barkeep?"

"Roll."

"Twenty!"

"No way! Jamie!"

"That's right, bit–"

"You win initiative; what do you do?"

"Right in the throat!"

"Jamie! No killing!"

"She's trying to kill _me_!"

"I don't care. Immy doesn't like killing."

"Geez – what's with you? And quit sticking your nose up and sniffing – fine! Okay, so Vhalyn knocks her hand to one side. You said he grew up as a monk?"

"…Not that sort of monk."

"But– fine. I can still make an unarmed strike? 1d3?"

"Yeah. 1d3."

"Uh… Vhalyn has gauntlets? That's 1d4."

"…All right. 1d4. Okay, let me roll. So you knock her knife aside. You get one attack–"

"Imoen to the rescue! I want to roll!"

"Okay, so you roll–"

"Eighteen! YEAH!"

"So you win against my five–"

"Five? What about her AC?"

"I stomp on her foot and hit her in the face and–"

"One attack only."

"But I have two hands and two feet…"

"You take penalties."

"Well… um… what can I do? I have a stick right? I hit her in the belly. Or over the head."

"Roll for damage?"

"…Seven?"

"Okay, you– ah, yes. The tavern patrons don't notice the commotion–"

"WHAT?"

"That's 'cause we're rogues! We're stealthy!"

"Whatever, shut up Immy."

"You shut up!"

"The woman is dazed. Her club is knocked to one side, but she still holds onto it. She lunges at you."

"I dodge."

"Roll."

"You take three damage."

"Fuc–"

"Can Immy hit her again?"

"Not this round. Roll again…"

"Yeah! I win!"

"Okay, so–"

"I stab her."

"JAMIE!"

"What? In the shoulder; see, she's got chain mail, so I poke her through the holes to distract her. She'll be in pain, and then–"

"The barkeeper has a crossbow behind the counter; he picks it up. It's already loaded."

"No! That's not fair! She started it, not us!"

"The barkeep can't see that. Well, you're not sure if he can."

"Um, Immy throws herself into Ja– Vhalyn."

"You stupid – what the hell did you do that for?"

"IC."

"Vhalyn: 'What the hells did you do that for?'"

"Saving your life!"

"No you didn't!"

"The assassin lunges at you–"

"I stab her."

"Right. So roll."

"Damnit!"

"She hits you–"

"But Immy knocks him out the way!"

"All right, we'll roll for that."

"What about the barkeep?"

"Fine, give me a second."

"What about my dex bonus?"

"It's already in there."

"Weapon finesse?"

"Yeah, that too. Okay, so: Barkeeper shoots – because Imoen knocks Vhalyn aside, he's not able to stab the assassin–"

"_Thanks_, Rachel–"

"And the assassin's lunge misses, and the bolt buries itself in her back. She gasps, as it penetrates–"

"Ow!"

"Stop sniggering!"

"–And her eyes roll up in the back of her head."

"So… we can't ask any questions?"

"Questions? Who cares? F–"

"Stop swearing!"

"–ing kill stealer."

"You get XP."

"Loot? I want to loot her corpse–"

"What about the barkeeper?"

"He's reloading his crossbow."

"No! Immy has to stop him! Make him stop, Jamie! I gotta explain, um, what'd Immy say?"

"Tell me a story, 'cause I'm a stupid sissy girl?"

"Shut up!"

"The barkeeper points his crossbow at you both."

"Both?"

"You're on top of each other."

"I grope her–"

"Eww! No! Stop it! Take it back!"

"Why?"

"Because!"

"You shouldn't be on top of me."

"I quit."

"Fine – I grab Immy's dagger–"

"You called her Immy."

"Stop smiling! I didn't mean to. You look stupid."

"You're horrible!"

"Sorry. I – Vhalyn – grabs Imoen's dagger and prepares to throw it at the barkeep."

"No! Imoen stops him."

"How? You can't stop me!"

"She – uh – sits on him!"

"What the f–"

"The barkeeper sees you're just a couple of kids and raises his crossbow. …Why're you looking at me like that Steve?"

"Nothin', nothin' at all."

"Yeah, are you laughing at us, Stevie?"

"It's just funny."

"What is? I don't get it."

"Yeah, tell us."

"He just – heh. Ah, it's not important."

"Tell!"

"Yeah!"

"He cut short – heh. Well, let's see what happens next."

"Thanks…"

"Sure thing."

"So, the barkeeper lets you two stay. It costs–"

"No way! We're not paying after that."

"Yeah! He – he almost let that woman kill us!"

"So you find a note in her belt purse; it's a bounty notice."

"No! We're not reading it here."

"Stop telling me what to do Rachel–"

"Don't be so stupid. Boys."

"Why not? Don't you want to know what it says?"

"Yeah, but not here. D'you want _everyone_ to see it?"

"But only we can see it–"

"When the guards come–"

"I'm reading it now."

"No you're not. Give it here. Imoen snatches it from Ja- Vhalyn."

"Hey!"

"Okay… roll."

"Ha, got it! Immy's the best."

"I hate you."

"Quit grumbling."

"I try to snatch it back."

"Uh, guys, you know that the barkeep is still there…"

"Don't care. We're not paying for a room."

"Yeah."

"It's unfair since he almost let us get killed."

"Heh, you tell 'im."

"Thanks so much, Steve."

"No problemo."

"All right, so the barkeeper lets you stay in his room–"

"Best room."

"Nashkel inn's best room is slightly better than a stable. He tells you the guards will want to question you–"

"Not until we bathe."

"Tomorrow morning."

"Immy needs to wash her hair."

"…Vhalyn helps."

"No he doesn't!"

"Vhalyn hides–"

"Imoen spots him and screams. If he peeks, she'll burn the bounty notice."

"…Fine, he doesn't."

"Tomorrow's dawn finds you…"


	6. V

V

"I wanna go to the faire."

"Yeah, I'm not interested in some stupid, stinking mine."

"There's a reward of 900gp."

"900gp is nothing! What gives? Seriously, I can't buy s–"

"JAMIE!"

"What? I can't buy scale–"

"That's not what you were going to say!"

"Was too!"

"Was not and you know it! Quit it. Immy's going to the faire; she grabs Vhalyn's hand, and walks off."

"What the hell–"

"IC."

"'What the hells are you grabbing my hand for?'"

"'Did you forget someone's trying to kill you?' Imoen whispers. She makes sure no one else can see or overhear. 'I'm not letting you outta my sight.'"

"Quit godmoding."

"I don't need to roll, do I?"

"Nope, you're fine."

"Just because you like her smile–"

"No, it's 'cause it'd be silly to roll. Duh."

"You reach the faire in good time."

"Are there shops? Immy wants to get a new comb; the last one broke."

"When?"

"Last night."

"What sort of world are you daydreaming in?"

"She was washing her hair, and keeping sure that Jam- Vhalyn wasn't spying on her, and then her comb broke."

"Brightly coloured tents of varying sizes fill the field. The noise of merrymaking is dulled by the problems overshadowing the town, but people still try to wear a brave face. There are less townsfolk than you'd expect; people from far and wide visit faires, but this one seems like a ghost town."

"We're still not going down the mines."

"Yeah, gotta be more than 900gp."

"…There are several attractions to see; Oomph the exploding ogre, a gambling tent, a green and yellow topped–"

"What about shops?"

"Who cares about shopping? I wanna see the ogre."

"Immy needs her comb, but okay, we can see the ogre. But only for a few minutes."

"You're not my mo–"

"Did you want to see the ogre or not?"

"Don't look at me, kid. It's your party."

"When's Steve joining in anyway?"

"There's a gnome to the east, between two large tents–"

"Stupid gnomes. I want to kill it."

"Jamie!"

"What's special about the gnome?"

"I was just getting to that: he's standing in front of a statue–"

"Oooh! I get it!"

"Is she hot?"

"What makes you think it's a she?"

"Gotta be."

"Yup. Can't fool us! It's Steve, isn't it?"

"Yeah, okay, you guessed it. So the gnome's offering a scroll of 'stone to flesh' for 500gp."

"What the – no way!"

"How much do we have?"

"Check your sheets."

"Aw, com'on. Please?"

"Well, Jamie spent 25gp on Studded Leather, 10gp on gauntlets–"

"10? I thought it was 8?"

"Winthrop sold them to you for 10gp, because he had to have Reevor forge them."

"Who's Reevor?"

"A dwarf."

"This is bull."

"Did you want your 1d4 gauntlets or not?"

"Jamie!"

"Okay, and I bought a short sword for 10gp. And an axe."

"No stupid, you bought five throwing knives and an axe; you got the short sword off that xvart."

"Oh yeah, so that's how much?"

"Call it 60gp."

"Okay. How much did Imoen have?"

"30gp. She wasn't able to bring much with her."

"So Imoen never saved anything?"

"Yeah, wouldn't she have whor– ow! Saved stuff she pickpocketed?"

"She has a ring worth 150gp, and a necklace worth 20gp. Anything more would've been discovered."

"Is it a pretty ring? Who did it belong to?"

"It belonged to your mother."

"Oh."

"That's stupid! Now she can't sell it!"

"Okay, she found it dropped behind a dresser. The owners were in Beregost by the time you found it."

"You're so nice; thank you!"

"Yeah, you're nice to her…"

"And you have a book–"

"Vhalyn doesn't care about books–"

"Shut up! What's the book?"

"It's called 'The History of the Dead Three'."

"What the hell? What's it worth?"

"6gp."

"Seriously? That's nothing."

"16gp, then."

"Meh."

"What's important about this book?"

"An elven mage named Firebead Elvenhair–"

"That's his name?"

"It's pretty."

"It's stupid."

"Gave it to you after you ran a chore for him."

"Why'd an elf give a drow anything? Is it trapped?"

"No, Elvenhair knew your foster father."

"Right, but there's nothing in it?"

"No, it's just a book."

"Okay, so can I have sold it to Winthrop?"

"…All right."

"He gave me 20gp, right?"

"I said 16gp."

"Yeah, but he likes me. And we need to get money for the gnome's scroll. We can't go down the mines without a cleric."

"All right, 20gp."

"Thanks. So, um, what else do we have? You could sell your bow, Im."

"What? No! Winthrop gave me this bow."

"No he didn't; what are you talking about?"

"Yes he did; when Immy was eight. He gave it to her for her birthday."

"…Why?"

"For shooting rats. Winthrop's too fat to chase rats on his own any more, and a crossbow's too dangerous, so he made Immy a bow. She shoots rats in the cellars, so she becomes a master thief."

"That's cr– uh, stupid. Rats are only worth 5xp."

"Yeah, but Immy was small then, so the rats were bigger."

"It doesn't work that way!"

"Does too. Immy's small, so the rats are big. When Immy's older, the rats aren't so big. So they're worth 25xp when she's little, and she killed dozens of them, because they snuck in out the cold–"

"No way! Fine! Then Vhalyn helped her kill them!"

"No, 'cause Vhalyn is too busy studying with Gorion, and besides, Vhalyn uses knives, not a bow."

"Well, when he isn't studying."

"Nup! Imoen doesn't need a drow to help her; she's the heroine! And when the seagulls caw too loud–"

"Then Vhalyn smushes bugs inside the keep–"

"It's spelled to stop bugs."

"So unfair."

"So between you, you have about 300gp."

"This blows."

"Oh! I know–"

"Yeah! The gambling tent!"

"We're not gambling!"

"We'll cheat."

"No!"

"Fine, I'll whor–"

"NO! We'll go see if we can help people–"

"Help people? No way!"

"Well, what do you propose then?"

"Steal the scroll?"

"Steve…"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, I know, we'll steal the scroll."

"You say it like it's your idea."

"It is. Immy stole it."

"What the – no way, Vhalyn stole it first–"

"Guys…"

"Rolling!"

"Yup!"

"So, we steal the scroll?"

"Yeah… you steal it, but now you have to read it."

"Immy's a wizardess."

"Mage."

"Wizardess!"

"Mage!"

"Spellcraft check–"

"Can Immy copy it to her spellbook?"

"It's a divine scroll…"

"But she can research it, right?"

"If she does, the statue remains in stone."

"I guess she tries to read the scroll; hey wait, won't the gnome notice?"

"Good point. The gnome hasn't noticed his scroll is missing–"

"Vhalyn hits him."

"What? No! Jamie–"

"No, I got a plan; I hit him, then he chases me – you read the scroll."

"That won't work!"

"I don't care. I call him a stupid fatnose."

"The gnome gets very angry, red in the face, and threatens to set basilisks on you–"

"Oh that is it! Vhalyn punches the fatnose in the nose!"

"JAMIE!"

"No one's around right?"

"You're at a faire…"

"So we're safe; they're all in other tents, there's lots of noise–"

"Roll…"

"GOT IT! Hit him! Right in the nose! Critical!"

"You knock him out cold."

"I take his clothes."

"JAMIE!"

"And his purse."

—

"'So now you owe us your life.'"

"'No you don't; please don't listen to him. He's such an idiot.'"

"'By Tempest's shield!'"

"That's all you've got to say? You see the gnome passed out cold… without clothes, and…"

"I didn't think she'd–"

"You could _see_ she had clothes on, Jamie!"

"No, she was a statute."

"She wasn't a naked statue!"

"I didn't know they'd turn back. It said stone to flesh; clothes aren't flesh."

"They're fibre, and you're being stupid. Gnome clothes wouldn't fit her."

"They would if they were magical."

"But they're not!"

"We didn't know that."

"'By Tempest's shield!'"


	7. VI

VI

"So, having bartered with Berrun Ghastkill, Mayor of Nashkel, you have been run out of town. The Amnish guards are combing the surrounding regions in search of you and your party; bounty hunters are after the two fugitives described by a certain gnome–"

"Quit it!"

"This is awesome. I wanna take the guards' dragon-helm; the wings look so cool."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jamie? The entire town hates us and all because of _you_! Why can't you stop being such a d–"

"Guys, chill. We just lay low for a few days, kill some bounty hunters and take their gear; you're a mage–"

"Wizardess."

"Right. And I'm a cleric; 'tween us, we can find a way of changing our appearance. No one'll know; then we'll infiltrate the mines and the town'll have to thank us."

"Yeah, but Vhalyn's still an as–"

"And Immy's boring; all you do is shop! Can't you at least steal something? You're meant to be a rogue!"

"Immy does pickpocket, but only from mean people and people who can afford it."

"You've not stolen once!"

"Yeah I did! Immy took that, uh… ring. Yeah."

"What ring?"

"From that nasty gnome that tried to sell us the scroll."

"What ring was that?"

"You didn't notice, but Immy made her spot check–"

"Search."

"Yeah, that, and Immy found it."

"Seriously? That's–"

"And then Immy went into that tent with the nasty magician and that poor woman–"

"Stupid hedgewitch…"

"Well, Immy took his wand right from under him and turned him into a toad."

"That's not how it happened!"

"That's how Immy remembers it, and Immy isn't wrong."

"So what do you guys intend to do? The weather is fine and the ground is dry, which means you can leave less tracks, but you won't be able to hide as well as you would when it was misty."

"Yeah, that blows."

"''Scue me, Mister DM, but what dangers are south of Nashkel?"

"Only those marked on your map."

"What's that castle? Immy needs a tower–"

"Let's go find out! Vhalyn has first dibs on all treasure."

"I guess it can't hurt. 'For Tempest's Shield!'"

"You head east, towards the ruins. It's an old map–"

"How old?"

"You don't know for sure, but you think it might be a hundred to two hundred years old."

"Paper wouldn't last that long."

"Ain't paper kids; it's cowhide. Vellum. Enchanted?"

"Eww!"

"Yeah, that's gross. And so cool."

"It was Gorion's map."

"Oh, so why isn't there more on it? Isn't he really smart?"

"'Wasn't he'; he's dead, stupid."

"Don't be mean, Jamie."

"Don't be stupid."

"Immy will steal Vhalyn's purse at night."

"Vhalyn will steal Immy's vir– ow!"

"There are some markings on the map which suggest there might be cliffs along the coast, and you know sirens inhabit the coast, Imoen."

"What? Why Imoen?"

"Because you're always studying your books and don't care about the real world, Mister I'm-so-cool Drow."

"Yeah, but Vhalyn would know about sirens."

"Why?"

"Because they're hotties!"

"JAMIE!"

"Heh. I mean, 'For Tempest's–'"

"Thank you, Steve."

"Sure thing, boss. So this castle; how far away is it?"

"The map suggests – well, roll for it. Anyone got knowledge–"

"Nope!"

"Nothing here, squire."

"What's knowledge?"

"Ahahahahaha."

"Shut _up_, Jamie!"

"Check your skills, Rachel."

"Knowledge: Arcania?"

"Arcana. Okay, no. Wilderness? All right. Uh, a few days. You have enough supplies to get there and back without hunting."

"I want to see the sirens."

"Why the hell does Imoen want to see sirens? Sirens are for boys–"

"Because they have pretty pearls and coral necklaces; Immy wants to know if she can trade flowers for a bracelet."

"If you want seaweed, you should–"

"Only Imoen'd be stupid enough to wear _seaweed_."

"Immy doesn't want seaweed; she wants coral. The shop at the faire didn't have very nice hairbands."

"Why is she even here? Imoen's so stupid!"

"Imoen's best friends with Vhalyn and Immy never lets a friend down. But Immy needs to look pretty too. Gotta look at her best when facing down evil dragons and throwing mighty spells to make them into spotty toads."

"Any other questions? Steve?"

"Just one: will there by a storm soon?"

"Why?"

"I cast Shield of Faith against the tempest–"

"Steve…"

"Sorry. Nope, no questions."

"I don't get it."

"Me either."

"You travel for two days–"

"Wait, are you sure we have enough food? What if Imoen need–"

"Shut up Rachel!"

"What does Imoen need that isn't on her character sheet?"

"Well, maybe she lost her bag, or her shoelace came undone when they were running away from the guards? What if she lost her hairbrush?"

"She didn't lose anything."

"But what if she thinks she did?"

"You can check it at the end of the day, or when you walk. Oh, don't look like that; all right. Hang on. 'As you flee the town, hiding around the corner from the guards, and finally evading Noober–"

"I should've killed him."

"Immy doesn't mind Noober; he's funny."

"In the head."

"'For Tempest's–'"

"To which, Branwen's – you really want to roll for it? Okay, Noober trips and hits his head, so Vhalyn's slingstone goes wide."

"Vhalyn doesn't use slings; slings are for sissies."

"Yes he does – against the kobold, remember? Branwen gave him one, because you wanted to save his knives."

"Oh yeah. Nevermind."

"Branwen's club taps Noober on the back of the head, and he doesn't wake for hours."

"Vhalyn makes sure Noober never wakes–"

"No! The guards are chasing us! Don't be such a jerk! Immy won't allow–"

"Okay, okay. Vhalyn leaves Noober alone."

"And you quit the town. You don't think anyone's followed you, but you can't be sure. At night, you don't light a fire–"

"How can Immy cook?"

"Immy can't coo– ow!"

"Rachel, if we light a fire we'll be seen."

"Oh."

"Yeah, think about that."

"What about the monsters though? Won't the wolves and goblins come without a fire to scare them away?"

"Let them come!"

"SHUT UP! Tell him Steve!"

"Branwen welcomes battle–"

"_Steve_!"

"But sometimes even battle-clerics must rest."

"You reach the castle after a few days; you see it rising out of the gloom, surrounded by sharp cliffs and crags on all sides. There appears to be a sharp drop to the sea, as if the castle is set upon its own island. A channel, cut sharply into the cliff, separates the isle from the sea. It is a long drop, and the only visible way over it is a rope ladder; the cliffs are too steep to climb safely. There are wooded regions near by, and you can hear the call of gulls and the crash of the waves against the distant shore."

"What about enemies?"

"Yeah! I want something to kill–"

"Jamie!"

"What?"

"You haven't found any tracks–"

"Seriously?"

"Kid, you're a rogue, I'm a cleric, she's a mage. Anyone bother to take Survival? Track?"

"…No…"

"But that's silly; shouldn't there be footprints?"

"It's been dry, Rachel. If there was rain, then you'd see tracks, even if you didn't know what they were. But you can roll if you like."

"Oh…"

"I want to roll."

"You find nothing."

"Aww geez."

"Anyone else? No? Okay then. You continue towards the castle; you see that its mostly a ruin. From where you are, you have to cross a bridge."

"Is there another way?"

"If you travel up or down the edge, you might find a way."

"Shouldn't Immy know about rocks and stuff, since she grew up by the sea? I don't want her to slip."

"If she has a rope, it will help her climb."

"Does she?"

"Check your sheet, just there, under 'Inventory'. Right by 'lockpicks'."

"Ohh. Thanks! So, um, is there another way?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with the bridge?"

"There are a couple of creatures guarding it; they look too fat and too tall to be humans. They're wearing loincloths–"

"What's a loincloth?"

"'s barbarian shorts."

"Oh. Eww. Wait, do they have hearts on them?"

"They're seven feet tall, have pig-tusks, and spiked helms, and carry clubs with nails in them. One has a round shield made of hide. You can smell them on the wind. It's worse than the fields you left Noober facedown in."

"That's so gross…"

"Do you approach them?"

"Let's kill them; can I throw a knife at them?"

"The wind is strong over the–"

"Cast a spell? What about 'Flame Strike'?"

"How high a level do you think Branwen is?"

"Wand?"

"Heh, you must think I'm loaded."

"Jamie…"

"What?"

"Couldn't we, maybe, distract them, sneak across the bridge and then kill them?"

"Oh. Huh. I guess. How?"

"Well, see, if Immy was to stand there, maybe they'd chase her?"

"What good'd _that_ do?"

"The kid has a point. You've got that rope, right? We tie it across the bridge, and they trip."

"How the hell does that work?"

"'You're such a slowpoke, Vhalyn.'"

"'Shut yer yap. I'm gonna slit their throats.'"

"'They'll crush you, stupid.'"

"'For Tempest's shield!'"

"Now they've heard you. One of the two begins to ramble over, the planks on the bridge barely holding his weight. The entire bridge sways."

"Can we see what they are yet?"

"They're called 'Ogrillons', Rachel. You recognise them from the stories Winthrop told Imoen growing up, and the gossip of the tavern patrons and guards."

"What's an Ogrillon?"

"Sort of a man-ogre."

"Eww…"

"Whatever, let's kill it."

"Chill a moment; let's find out what it wants."

"No way–"

"I grab Vhalyn's arm and hold him."

"Yeah, and I grab the other."

"What the f–"

"'Gnarl smell you,' bellows the Ogrillon, 'Stop hiding, manthings! You pay to cross bridge–'"

"Oh that is it, he is so dead–"

"Yeah! Immy shoots her bow at him."

"Well, okay guys. 'FOR TEMPEST'S SHIELD!'"

"You charge the Ogrillon?"

"You betcha."

"Okay. What about you Vhalyn?"

"I hide."

"You what?"

"I hide."

"Where?"

"Behind that tree. And the rock. I wait for the hottie in her chain 'kini–"

"You realise that Branwen is in full armour? That's a chain tunic, and gauntlets–"

"Seriously?"

"Yup, and she's got this huge mole just here – right beside her nose."

"The hell? We rescued a fugly?"

"That's right, kid; and she's got scars all over. If you know what I mean."

"Eww, you guys are so gross."

"Puckered scar right over her lip; but you know the best part? She's a 36–"

"Moving on."

"Sure thing, boss."

"So Vhalyn hides, Imoen shoots, and Branwen charges. Roll init."

"17!"

"Hah, beat you! 18!"

"13."

"20."

"Son of a–"

"Jamie!"

"The Ogrillon bellows in rage, and his mouth starts to froth–"

"He's a _barbarian_? Shi–"

"'NOW YOU MAKE HAIRTOOTH MAD! STUPID, STUPID! YOU SHOULD HAVE PAID! NOW GNARL–"

"Immy laughs."

"…Huh?"

"Nice one."

"…Okay…"

"Immy thinks he's so cute when he scrunches up his face like that."

"…Uh… right."

"You think it's _cute_, he's a f–"

"Heh."

"The Ogrillon doesn't stop, but charges towards Branwen."

"'Wait, don't hurt him!'"

"RACHEL!"

"What? He's _cute_."

"Vhalyn jumps out of the shadows and kills him."

"JAMIE!"

"You guys need to roll…"

"SNEAK ATTACK, YEAH! CRIT!"

"You inflict horrendous damage; hamstrung, the Ogrillon collapses in a heap of severed veins, arteries and pooling blood–"

"EW! Stop it!"

"…Sorry Rachel."

"Stop ruining it! I want to hear how Vhalyn stabbed the fugly–"

"I swing my hammer down to make sure its dead."

"…Branwen's hammer crushes the Ogrillon's skull. By now, the other Ogrillon, Hairtooth, is half way over the bridge–"

"'FOR TEMPEST'S SHIELD!'"

"Geez, let someone else have a go."

"Immy rushes over to the Ogrillon and tries to heal him."

"What the hell are you doing? RACHEL! Vhalyn cuts its throat!"

"I HATE YOU! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO MEAN?"

"He's a freaking _Ogrillon_!"

"Maybe if we were nice, we could've made friends! Why do you have to kill everything!"

"I haven't killed _you_!"

"You leave my Immy alone! 'Sides, Vhalyn'd never hurt his best friend."

"Vhalyn has no friends–"

"Loser."

"Hey!"

"Yeah he does! Immy's his friend! And so are you. Aren't you?"

"Yeah, you owe me your life–"

"Shut up Jamie. No she doesn't. Branwen's our friend."

"Hairtooth raises his axe. He's dressed in tattered hides, crudely stitched together in the shape of armour–"

"I cut the bridge."

"Don't be idiot!"

"Nice move, kid."

"The rope doesn't take long to saw through; as soon as Hairtooth sees you doing that, he stops where he is and begins to step backwards. Because it's so windy, he can't run. The entire bridge stutters."

"HA. 'Give us all your money, freak.' Hey, does he have any magic items?"

"You can't tell."

"Why not?"

"Can Immy see? She's a wizardess, and wizardesses use magic."

"…Roll for it."

"7."

"3."

"You can't tell."

"But Immy uses magic…"

"Branwen puts her foot on the bridge and then stomps."

"The bridge shudders; Hairtooth's eyes budge frantically."

"'And give us all your magic items!' Vhalyn saws more of the rope. There's still enough for us to cross."

"The rope begins to fray. Hairtooth steps backwards. Five more steps and he'll be off the bridge."

"I thought he was half way. How long is the bridge?"

"Twenty paces."

"How long is that? Can Immy throw her rope across and–"

"Shut up guys, I'm trying to make – 'Hey, fattie, one more step and you die! Throw all your clothes onto the far side or you go swimming!'"

"JAMIE!"

"If the freak doesn't do what I want, I cut the bridge."

"…Hairtooth does as you tell him."

"Chalk up another kill for Vhalyn."

"But you didn't–"

"I finish cutting the rope."

"Why are you such a meanie?"

"It's an Ogrillon. It's evil."

"You're evil! Why can't you ever be nice?"

"I'm not a frickin' paladin."

"Branwen crosses the bridge."

"Hold on – let me roll."

"Branwen gets off the bridge."

"A sudden gust of wind finishes the already frayed rope and the bridge plummets into the chasm below."

"THANKS JAMIE."

"Can't win 'em all. Still got that rope handy, Rach?"

"I loot the corpse."

"I think so…"

"You find a pair of bracers."

"Are they magic? Hey, Rachel, make sure they're not cursed."

"Here it is. Imoen rummages through her pack until she finds her rope. It's buried under her hairbrush and her food-bag. She keeps it neatly coiled up."

"Quit ignoring me and identify the bracers!"

"Imoen gives the rope to Branwen."

"Vhalyn shoves Imoen."

"Fine, we're not friends any more."

"What the hell–"

"Don't be nasty. Ask nicely. If you apologise and smile, maybe Immy'll do it. Otherwise she won't."

"'I'm sorry.'"

"Immy didn't quite hear that."

"I hate–"

"Immy sniffs and begins to brush her hair."

"Fu– fine! 'Please will you identify these for me?'"

"Going to be nice?"

"YES! ALL RIGHT! FINE!"

"Say it."

"I'LL BE NICE TO YOU!"

"No more killing?"

"NO!"

"No more killing stuff that Immy doesn't want you to?"

"…Fine."

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"I hate you."

"What was that? Immy didn't quite hear."

"Nothing."

"Now, say 'thank you Immy, you're the best wizardess and a friend a boy could have.'"

"_Rachel_!"

"Branwen throws the rope over the gorge."

"Immy casts the spell."

"They're a pair of bracers that increase your dexterity."

"Cool! Give them back."

"Nuh uh, Immy needs them more."

"What? No she doesn't! They're mine!"

"Nope! See, Immy's not as armoured. It says so. You have more."

"Stop looking at my sheet!"

"Immy's a thief."

"Metagamer!"

"What's metagaming?"

"It means playing with knowledge the character couldn't have."

"But Immy knows what Vhalyn has because they're bestest friends and he tells her everything."

"No he doesn't!"

"Does too. Immy knows when Vhalyn got his first kiss, who it was with–"

"Wait, who was it with?"

"Not tellin'."

"Rachel!"

"Okay, I'll tell you… no one."

"No way! Vhalyn's had lots of girls–"

"Growing up in Candlekeep was a place without children, remember? Weren't you listening?"

"What about servant girls? Nobles visited, right? They have daughters…"

"Who'd want Vhalyn?"

"Vhalyn's a _drow_; who _doesn't_ want Vhalyn?"

"Branwen secures the rope and uses her hammer to zip-line over."

"Roll. Okay, you manage it."

"My cha is more than yours; no one wants fulgy, freckled Imoen!"

"You promised to be nice! And _you_ want Imoen!"

"Out of pity!"

"Nup! You _looooove_ her! See! Vhalyn's blushing and looking away!"

"No he's not!"

"Branwen pulls herself up the cliff, and heads towards the castle."

"You see gnolls up ahead."

"What's a gnoll?"

"Big, hyena-headed dog-man, six foot tall."

"Vhalyn is far too cool for Immy!"

"Then why are you always trying to pickpocket her? You like her!"

"No!"

"She likes Vhalyn."

"What? She does?"

"'course; they're best friends!"

"I hate you!"

"Immy remembers that one night when Vhalyn got drunk; he had too much ale, and he was walking funny, and he fell over; Immy caught him. Do you know what happened next?"

"They went to bed–"

"No silly, well, Immy helped Vhalyn into bed, but their lips touched first. That was Immy's first ever kiss, best friends."

"For real? With ton– ow!"

"Don't be so gross! Immy would never kiss a boy like that! …Well… maybe Garrick."

"GARRICK? Fuc–"

"Branwen charges."

"–king Garrick!"

"Roll please."

"20."

"But only if he was really sweet, and nice, and sang her songs and brought her flowers, and maybe when they were older–"

"Garrick's a goddamn fop!"

"He's a sweetie."

"Branwen casts 'Bull's strength' and hits the biggest gnoll."

"He's stupid!"

"He sings so nicely; why can't Vhalyn play the lyre?"

"Vhalyn doesn't play no stupid harp!"

"It's a lyre, not a harp."

"Same diff."

"Boys."

"20. Branwen crit hits."

"The gnolls begin to break."

"Branwen gives chase."

"And you rolled a… woah. Okay then. Gnoll chunks everywhere. The pitiful cries of the gnolls are snuffed out, but their fellows hear their comrades deaths. Twelve of them appear at the shattered gatehouse above the spiralling steps."

"'FOR TEMPEST'S SHIELD!'"


	8. VII

VII

"Really? Well now–"

"'Thou art mine saviour; but prey tell, hast thou, in thine travels, happened upon, mayhaps, a warrior tall and–'"

"No way does anyone speak like that!"

"I think it's sweet."

"'Scool."

"'–broad of chest, the might of armies at his arm–'"

"Another dandy? What gives?"

"He sounds so handsome!"

"Sounds redundant. Any distinguishing features?"

"'–but I fear he mayeth suffer greatly from the blow smote upon his brow by yonder gnoll.'"

"Mayeth's not really a word, is it?"

"No need to whisper, Rach."

"Guys, please."

"Where's Vhalyn? He gets bored and leaves."

"Okay."

"'The honour art mine, for Tempest's shield and glory!'"

"…Think we should tell him?"

"Tell him what? Oh! Um, yeah. Steve… um, you know that…"

"'Sup Rach?"

"Um… well, the book says…"

"How come you get a – oh, _that's_ boring."

"It's the Player's Handbook!"

"Duh."

"It says here that it's 'Tempus' and you've been saying …Why are you winking? Why's Steve winking at us?"

"Oh Go– right. What is everyone doing?"

"Immy's still by the tree."

"Vhalyn snuck off when Immy wasn't watching."

"'Thy scars are borne with honour–'"

"Steve…"

"'FOR TEMPEST'S SHIELD!'"

—

"I kill them."

"You haven't even heard their offer yet–"

"I roll 20. See?"

"…Immy follows Vhalyn."

"No way! Vhalyn snuck off when Immy wasn't looking!"

"And Immy followed him."

"How'd she do that? You're che–"

"I'm not cheating! See, Vhalyn's a drow right?"

"Yeah…?"

"And a _boy_. And boys _smell_. And Vhalyn is especially smelly, because he never bathes."

"He does too!"

"Nu-uh! Vhalyn hates hot water and soap."

"No he doesn't! He loves Immy washing his b–"

"If that's the only way he gets clean, Immy has to bathe him like a baby."

"Fine by me."

"From _outside_ the tub."

"You're no fun!"

"So, Immy follows him by his smell."

"You two want to roll for it?"

"20!"

"…This game sucks."

"Quit being a sore loser. 'Sides, Vhalyn needs backup. Immy's there to help save the day!"

"But you just–"

"They're hurting the tree. That's not nice. So Immy tells them to stop."

"They don't listen."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Vhalyn's hacking them apart is why!"

"But Immy wants to talk…"

"Immy is always talking– ow!"

"Steve?"

"Tempest's handmaiden an' Wychlaran are still talkin' about the muscled warrior with the purple tattoo. In the trees."

"Uh huh."

"No fair!"

"Jamie? Steve?"

"I told you girls get all the fun."

"Oh eww! You guys are so gross!"

"Do they make their save? Vhalyn only needs 1000xp–"

"He does? Cool! What'd ya roll?"

"18."

"YES! …How much xp are they worth?"

"20 each."

"What?!"

"Hang on. Sorry, 200 each."

"What does Immy get?"

"I'll tell you at the end."

"Yeah, tell me about the dryad."

"She turns to greet you; she's standing beside her tree, the blood of the slain feeding her roots–"

"Eww!"

"Is she hot?"

"Slurp."

"Steve?"

"Yo?"

"Slurp?"

"Tree feedin' season."

"Right… Her hair is chocolaty-brown, her eyes burnt-bark; her skin is pale, willowy beige with a tinge of green. She smiles at you."

"Uh, that's great an' all, but is she fat?"

"She bears the characteristics of her tree."

"So… wrinkles?"

"Jamie!"

"What? I want my reward. Do we get to make tree-babies?"

"They're called 'saplings'."

"Why are you guys so gross?"

"Baby trees, Rachel. They're called saplings."

"Oh."

"My reward?"

"She offers you a potion."

"A lousy potion – I should chop her tree… oh hey, I have… um, say. Can I take warlock as my next level?"

"But you said warlocks suck…"

"Pass it over, Rach. Here's the page."

"Thanks Steve. Um… I'm not sure Immy'd be comfortable with that. Demons sound nasty."

"I want to make a feypack. She can be my familiar."

"She's already got a tree."

"Um… I can shrink it and take it with us. Hey, can I have a feylock druid?"

"A what?"

"Feylock. Without the shapeshifting."

"Didn't you want to be a Blackguard?"

"I want to be an assassin. Hey, can a warlock use 'Dimension Door'?"

"Sure, if you pay for it."

"How much?"

"Tell me what you want."

"Rogue with Hide in Plain Sight, Poison, Shadow Jump or Dimension Door."

"And the 'feylock'?"

"I'll sacrifice Immy."

"No."

"Jamie!"

"Ow! Okay, okay, it was just an idea."

"I'll think about it."

"Cool!"

"Look up what you want, and we'll see if we can find a PrC that fits. Perhaps something can be traded out."

"Awesome."

"And the dryad?"

"What? Yeah, um, Immy can kiss her instead. Yeah, that'd be ho– quit elbowing me!"

—

"Immy wants a familiar."

"Quit copying!"

"A cat would be nice, maybe. Oooh, what's this? A dragon?"

"Faerie dragons aren't real dragons; everyone knows that!"

"Dragon'd be cool."

"Owls look nice too… can Immy have an owl and a kitten?"

"With the right feats. She'll have to wait until she's level seven–"

"What'd ya want _two_ familiars for?"

"So they can be friends. When Immy's busy adventuring, they can keep each other company. They can play games together."

"Like hunt the rat?"

"Jamie!"

"It's stupid."

"Just because you couldn't have the dryad."

"Vhalyn goes back to the tree."

"Imoen stops him."

"How?"

"She um, grabs his arm."

"Vhalyn breaks free. He's stronger."

"Yeah, but she's faster."

"No she's not!"

"Is too."

"No way!"

"Slurp."

"…Steve…"

"Fine. But Immy's pants fall down."

"What?!"

"'S how she stops him. She grabs Vhalyn's arm to keep from falling."

"I hate you! Her pants do not fall down!"

"Do too. Her belt's loose."

"No it's not!"

"Is. It caught earlier. On that tree."

"Make him stop being mean!"

"And Vhalyn cut it when she wasn't looking."

"Why'd he do that?!"

"To see her–"

"Then Immy put itching powder down his–"

"When?!"

"When he was sleeping."

"Why didn't it itch earlier?"

"Vhalyn doesn't notice, cause he doesn't wash, an' cause Immy makes it work with a magic word."

"That's stupid."

"Nup! Command word. Says so right here."

"Give me that!"

"Nuh uh! You don't need a Player's Handbook; you're too cool!"

"Rachel!"

"Quit being mean, then."

"Okay, okay. But he still looks up her–"

"Didn't you say Imoen was fugly?"

"…Uh, yeah."

"Steve!"

"Sorry, Rach. Branwen thinks she's really pretty."

"Aww. Really?"

"Yup. She loves Immy's hair."

"What the f–"

"So after saving a wandering, lost nobleman from a bear, you cross the bridge."

"What was he doing there anyway?"

"He went for a walk. He was separated from his carriage."

"Aren't there bandits around? It isn't safe for him. We shouldn't leave him there. Um, hey, maybe we should take him with us."

"Another guy? No way."

"He could pay you."

"Yeah. Let's bring him along."

"Um, maybe… what if we left him with Laurel? She's a paladin, right? We helped her with the gibberlings."

"But he's got money!"

"No he doesn't! The bear took it from him."

"That's stupid!"

"He doesn't have any money, does he?"

"…He can pay when he gets back to civilisation."

"There! See!"

"Laurel's pretty, isn't she?"

"She's a paladin with flaxen hair, three scars over her nose, and blue eyes. She reminds you of a Valkyrie."

"Do Valkyries exist in DnD?"

"Aren't you busy with Dynaheir?"

"Just askin'."

"So she's really pretty, Jamie. Don't you think Vhalyn likes blondes? She has nice eyes."

"…But nobles are loaded…"

"And she's got a sword. A woman-warrior who hunts gibberlings."

"Why do you care?"

"Because leaving him out there is mean! It's cold and he's alone, and there are _bears_."

"The fur's on my sheet, right?"

"Yes, the pelt's there."

"And Imoen cast a spell on it to keep it?"

"Yes, she did."

"Well, um, if you don't help, Immy'll un-cast it."

"She can't do that!"

"Dispel."

"She's not that high a level! Why'd you do that anyway? He's just a stupid noble! We're taking him back to town!"

"Maybe Laurel'll come too. Where's Branwen and Dynaheir?"

"She's a _paladin_."

"Yeah, and you got us _kicked out of town, stupid_."

"So?"

"So, she can help clear our name. 'Cause we rescued a noble and helped a paladin."

"Oh yeah. …That's a good idea…"

"See, Immy's the smart one."

"Before you guys head back to the bridge, you hear a rustling sound. An ogre comes out; he looks distressed."

"An ogre! Quick, hide in the shadows; you distract it, I'll hamstring."

"Why is he upset?"

"He looks like he's been crying."

"Come _on_, Rachel! We need to kill it!"

"Immy wants to know why he's upset."

"He sees you."

"Damnit!"

"'Won't you help me? I've lost my Rufie.'"

"'Who's Rufie?'"

"'A puppy. He ran off into the bushes.'"

"I don't believe this."

"Heh."

"'We'll help you find him! Does he have a favourite chewtoy?'"

"Oh for f–"

"Don't be such a grouch."

"We're wasting time!"

"Immy searches the bushes. It'll go faster if you help, Jamie."

"Fine. Whatever. I don't care. Vhalyn looks for the stupid puppy. With his dagger."

"Don't you dare hurt him."

"Fine. Without his dagger."

"After a quick search, you find him stuck in a tree."

"What the– this is so unbelievably stupid."

"Immy uses 'magehand' to help get him free."

"…Uh, right. Okay, Imoen helps get Rufie free. He bounds towards you, snatches the chew-toy and runs over to the ogre."

"Wait, what? Why didn't the ogre find Rufie earlier?"

"Rufie is a direwolf."

"Oh."

"Oh sh–"

"The ogre turns into a pit fiend and disappears through a portal."

"Huh?"

"That's… weird…"

"I don't get it."

"Uh… oh. Sorry guys, um, Albert – nevermind. Anyway, you all get 350xp for that."

"Hang on. What're your notes say?"

"…Albert was meant to be a man polymorphed from an ogre mage."

"Cool."

"No more spoilers."

"Will he come back later?"

"Probably not. Hey, Rach, pass that book over? No, the Monster Manual."

"Give it a rest, Steve."

"Can we go and find Laurel? What's the nobleman's name?"

"Who cares? Let's grab 'em and get back to Nashkel. I want to see the look on that stupid Ghastkill's face…"

—

"Okay, so what do their corpses have?"

"…You know what? Nevermind. Let me roll."

"No, seriously. What'd they have? A magic item?"

"C'mon, please? Immy wants to know."

"…It's a scroll."

"What's it say?"

"Yeah, open it. Wait, let Immy open it. It might be cursed."

"When do you know about curses?"

"It's here! In the book."

"It's an autograph."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Heh."

"It was late, I was tired – it's just a bad idea, okay?"

"Who does it belong to?"

"…Elminster."

"Oh."

"For real?"

"Probably a fake guys."

"Steve, if you look over the screen once more–"

"Chill. Arry, Darryl and Dar- heh. I get it."

"What are they on about?"

"Dunno. Can we get back to killing?"

"No killing!"

"Whatever. I'm heading south."

"Why?"

"It's away from you."

"Where's Branwen? And Laurel?"

"By the trees. Dyn's with the noble guy."

"Oh."

"Let's see… okay, after an hour, you meet a band of Amnish Merchants. You hear them before they see you."

"Back up, what's Branwen doing in the trees with Laurel?"

"Talkin' theology."

"…I hate you so bad."

"Why are you wink– eww… What're their names? Immy wants to see if they have shoes; hers are almost worn out. What's in fashion? Is it pink?"

"Oh Go-"

"They introduce themselves as Sendai, Alexander, and Delgod. Delgod is in robes, and Sendai is wearing studded leathers, which have a slight shimmer."

"Pink?"

"…Yeah, sure. 'Northern adventurers in our hunting grounds?'"

"They aren't very polite."

"Let's knife them."

"No! 'Do you have anything for sale?'"

"Sendai looks bemused."

"What's bemused?"

"Perplexed. Thoughtful. 'Have you seen any game around here?'"

"'We killed a bear earlier.' Didn't we see a wolf?"

"I know a wolf…"

"Jamie!"

"Aren't there any bandits or something?"

"Branwen and Laurel check out the trees."

"Steve!"

"Scouting, Rach."

"Fine…"

"'I'm Vax, this is Zal. 'E's th fastest dart thrower in the west.'"

"Your money or your life? That old line?"

"It's a classic."

"Oh hey, can't we make them fight? Then loot the corpses!"

"…But Immy wants shoes."

"We'll take them off their–"

"Without blood on them!"

"Why? They'll only get dirty anyway."

"Dynaheir casts slow."

"…You're NPCing her?"

"Sure."

"How come he gets two characters?"

"Dynaheir and Branwen got to know each other very well while you two were off with Albert…"

"Please don't mention that name…"

"Shoes?"

"Boring."

"You could sell them your pelt, Jamie."

"Huh. Didn't think of that. Will they buy it?"

"Ask them."

"'Sup guys'."

"Jamie!"

"I mean, 'I am Vhalyn. Will you part coin for this pelt of finest bear?'"

"They recognise a drow and slowly put their hands on their weapons."

"No! This isn't fair! 'Don't! He's not a bad – he fell in the mines. Yeah, he got all dirty, and I tried to get it off him, but I used glue instead of… and he's tired! He's been up three days!'"

"Heh… 13."

"Vax and Zal charge."


	9. VIII

VIII

"Die bitc–"

"YEAH! DIE! And leave Immy alone!"

"Heh."

"Do the merchants have bandages? Immy's cut. Right above her eye. It hurts."

"Who cares? What loot do they have? Hey, can we attack the merchants now they're distracted? They're wounded too, aren't they?"

"Alexander's dead, Sendai looks hurt."

"Okay, so we could–"

"No Jamie! Immy still wants her… what did Immy want? Sandals? Hey, do they have magic bags?"

"Fireball them!"

"That'll ruin everything! Stop it!"

"Does Vhalyn tell Dynaheir to fireball–"

"No! Immy – um… Immy uh… she… she cries."

"What?!"

"Heh."

"So Imoen starts crying. What does everyone else do?"

"Branwen heals Dynaheir."

"Vhalyn?"

"No one's going to attack the merchants? You guys suck. Okay, Vhalyn… hey, he sees Val and Dax right?"

"Vax and Zal, yes."

"He loots the corpses."

"The bandits?"

"Everyone–"

"You can't loot Alexander; Sendai will get cross!"

"So? He's dead, isn't he."

"But Immy needs her shoes! Stop making them attack us!"

"Fine."

"Well, I think that about wraps up this session. So to recap, you fought off gibberlings, a bear, two guys attacking a tree…"

"Tell us how Immy shot Zal again?"

"All right, Rach. Zal threw knives at Vhalyn–"

"Tell it how'd Garrick would, pleeeeease?"

"Don't you want to wait until you're back in town?"

"Garrick's in Nashkel?"

"That fop followed us to–"

"No, he's – nevermind. Just pretend Garrick'd sing it, okay? You freeze; the flash of steel as sunlight strikes the knives catches your eye. Vhalyn throws himself at you; splitting your hair as you fall, the knife point flies past. With a thud, it buries itself in Alexander's jerkin. His eyes roll back, and Delgod begins to chant. Branwen reacts faster than you thought possible, and her hammer flares white–"

"Booyah!"

"–And crushes the forearm of Vax…"

"Don't forget Vhalyn."

"…Yeah. Vhalyn looks up Sendai's skirt–"

"Leather skirt."

"–but sees nothing, as she's wearing leggings. Yes, leather skirt. And boots. Immy looks disgusted, and pushes his face away. Branwen's hammer swings again, but Vax stabs at her."

"Wasn't Zal a dart thrower?"

"He throws a poisoned knife, stupid."

"Uh… yes, you're right Rach."

"Hey! You said he threw knives."

"Be nice, Jamie. We won, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but Vhalyn's hurt."

"Okay, roll a d6."

"3."

"That's 3hp. Adjust your sheet."

"Huh?"

"You got hit by two knives. Darts do 1 less damage than knives."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks. Hey, hang on–"

"Quit it, Jamie. Just be grateful."

"I said 'thanks', didn't I?"

"I feel bad for Vax. He's young, lost…"

"They're bandits! Geez."

"_You're_ a bandit! Can we take him to the temple and rez him?"

"You could, but… the authorities will hang him."

"And us! For harbouring scum! What loot did they have again?"

"Magic bracers."

"Cool! Did you ID them, Im?"

"Tell me more about Vax please?"

"What do you want to know?"

"How old was he?"

"Uh… twenty-three, you think. He has brown hair, short, rugged four-day-unshaved stubble, a couple of scars, and a pit marked nose. He's not too bright, and hasn't eaten for the past few days, you guess. As a rogue, you notice that his front teeth are a little crooked, and his clothes haven't been washed in a month."

"Eww… and aw, is he really dead? Didn't Branwen just knock him out?"

"Branwen does not do half jobs! Branwen plays for keeps. FOR TEMPEST–"

"…Steve…"

"Branwen claims coin for Tempest's temple."

"Steve."

"Hammer of Smite needs glory and love."

"Steve!"

"Immy thinks it's cute when you grin that way."

"Woah, that's way too meta even for me, Rach."

"Well, she would…"

"Vhalyn needs to know how much loot there is. I want him to woe Sendai. Hey, will she come with us to Nashkel? We've still got that nobleman and all."

"I think you mean 'woo'…"

"Yeah that."

"Next time guys. You'll bring the drinks, Steve? Dips and chips?"

"I'll bring the chips, and some carrots."

"Carrots?! What–"

"They're good for you. Maybe some little sausages on a stick too. And pineapple."

"Thank you, Rach. Seven again?"

"Can do. Want a lift tomorrow, J?"

"Sure."

"Night all."


	10. IX

IX

"So, what're we gonna do tonight, kids? Slay a dragon? Save a pumpkin patch from goblins? Slaughter gibblerings? Sorry, Rach. Save a princess?"

"That sounds nice. Can we?"

"A princess? Is she ho– no hitting! Honest! Is she honest?"

"Hmph."

"Princesses are prissy, Jamie-o. Pumpkin patches are better; they've got farmers, and where there's farmers…"

"Farmwives?"

"Farmer's daughters, kid. Learn from it."

"Steve!"

"Sorry Rach. Fact o' life. But you could be friends with her. Think of how Immy could have a new playmate."

"Hmm… maybe…"

"Pass the dip, J. Good man. Now, where's our DM got to? Yo! DM! I'm gonna peek behind your screen–"

"Thank you, Steve. That'll do."

"Works every time."

"Did he just wink?"

"He wasn't winking at yo– both of us! I don't want to sit next to Rach any more."

"Sure thing, kid. But you know she'll just kick you under the table, right?"

"Damnit."

"Yup! S'what Immy would do, and will do if Vhalyn ain't nice."

"What's got you so chipper tonight, Steve?"

"This an' that, that an' this. Are we gaming or what? Let's roll!"

—

"You approach the town with some trepidation. It's dark now, but you have your party with you. Laurel the paladin, the nobleman you saved from the bear. Sendai and her wounded companion, Delgod; Alexander, their dead is carried on a stretcher–"

"Won't that attract the bears?"

"Stop chewin' so loud, Jamie. And if any bears come, you can show off to Laurel."

"Oh yeah."

"The town is bathed in darkness, but through the trees, you see the torches of the patrolling guards flicker. Candlelight glows warm from within the windowed tavern and inn, but the houses are dark. The temple, as always, is lit."

"Were there?"

"Were there what?"

"Any bears?"

"Oh. Uh, no."

"Okay then…"

"Aw, don't be such a grouch, J. Hey, I bet there was a wolf."

"A wolf? Sure, why not."

"How come she gets a wolf?"

"'Cause it's a _winter wolf_, silly. The shopkeep in Nashkel told us about them. So we killed it and kept its pelt, and now Immy has a nice warm cloak."

"Hey, don't look at me DM."

"And boots, and gloves, and…"

"Immy will have to get the pelt cured and made into that..."

"Immy knows a spell, right? Or Branwen? Dynaheir?"

"Why are you helping Im?"

"Because Vhalyn killed the wolf. With uh, Immy's help."

"Oh okay. Yeah. That's exactly what happened. Vhalyn stabbed the wolf in the mouth, after it um… lemme see…"

"Carrots are good, Rach."

"…Hm. Oh, thanks, Steve! Breath attack. What's a breath attack? Anyway, Im dodges that, so Vhalyn can stab it. And then someone uses a spell. Delgod can. He's a caster, isn't he? So now Immy can have new shoes and doesn't need to buy them from Sendai."

"All right, all right."

"And she gets a bonus against cold, right? Says right here."

"Heh."

"All right, fine. Have your winter cloak."

"And gloves, and boots?"

"Yes, you can have those too."

"Yay! Immy gets to be warm and snugly and…"

"What about me?"

"You get to impress Laurel. You saved her from getting bit, remember?"

"I did? Oh! Yeah, that's right."

"Sendai too. You were magnificent."

"I was, wasn't I?"

"Heh."

"Guys, the town?"

"Sendai was impressed, wasn't she? Laurel too?"

"Little impresses Sendai."

"Aw, c'mon…"

"Yeah, be nice. He saved her."

"Ain't teamwork great?"

"Quiet, you. And yes, Sendai – her lips don't move, but the ghost of surprised, then pleased, considering smile touches her gaze. But then it's gone. Laurel nods, and you think you see something thoughtful as she turns away."

"So Immy's nice an' warm now, Rach? She'll need it for the mines. Hope you've got some good socks and–"

"And what, Steve?"

"Uh… vest. Rach."

"Are you sure that's what you meant?"

"Yeah, as long as Im's kitted out warmly, you'll be fine. Gets draughty in the mines, don't you know?"

"The nobleman is not one for skulking in shadow, nor is Laurel and they break through the bushy path leading from the fields towards the town. Underfoot, the road that cuts through Nashkel seems hard and dry; few caravans have used it as of late."

"Hey, DM."

"Yes Jamie?"

"I don't want Sendai and Laurel to leave. Can they stay?"

"Sendai is an Amnish merchant, and Laurel is a paladin. Both have reasons to go."

"Yeah, but Branwen has no reason to stay either. Neither does Dynaheir. We saved Sendai from Vax and Dal, or whatever they were called."

"And the nobleman?"

"Hey, it'll be okay, J. There are other merchants' daughters."

"But Vhalyn likes Sendai."

"Kid's right. Dynaheir is only attached to Branwen."

"Dynaheir has her own reasons."

"Oooh, spooky! Immy wants to know more."

"Immy doesn't know."

"Hey, doesn't Sendai need the mines clear for trade?"

"She's not an iron monger. She's a wealth merchant's daughter."

"What about Laurel? Ridding the mines of evil is a good cause."

"Yeah! Even a stuck in the mud paladin should see the sense in that."

"All right, if you can convince them, they can stay. What's your cha score? And diplomacy?"

"No fair; she's a merchant, she'll have hers maxed out."

"Yeah, but Vhalyn's a drow, remember? You keep saying how pretty he is."

"Vhalyn's not pretty!"

"You said it, kid."

"The mines…"

"Alexander needs to be buried, but the priest refuses to do so unless Delgod and Sendai agree to help. They're outraged, but he begins to smell. He's very smelly. Sendai wants to leave him there, but it'll hurt her reputation as a merchant. Ain't that right? That's what Immy thinks anyways. Lestways. Yeah."

"If it'll get you down the mines, fine. You agree to help the town?"

"Yup. For a reward, 'course. Little ole Immy still needs new shoes.

"…Hey, stop groaning at me!"

—

"After negotiations with Mayor Ghastkill, you've been allowed back into town, on the condition you all help with the mines. The nobleman you saved was very grateful, and has put in a good word for you, but unfortunately has no coin on him."

"What about a cheque?"

"A cheque, Rachel?"

"Don't Amnish have banks?"

"Not in Nashkel."

"Couldn't he magic the money?"

"Later, maybe. He can contact home to let him know he's safe. By the time you're back, he should have a reward."

"If he doesn't scarper."

"The town guard are watching him."

"Well, I guess… but if he does, Immy'll track him down! We didn't save him from no bear for nothing!"

"I thought you saved him because a bear was chasing him?"

"Well, yeah, but um… he'll just have to cough up, 'kay? 'Cause shoes are expensive."

"Okay. Now, the mines are a few hours away. You can reach them by mid-morning, if you rest. The miners set off a couple of hours before dawn, usually. You can smell them before you see them."

"What kind of mine is it?"

"One with tunnels."

"Vhalyn wanted to get a drink in the tavern first with Laurel and Sendai."

"Dynaheir and Branwen join him."

"Immy too."

"Guys…"

"Immy needs the reward money. Let's go."

"Right, thank you, Rach. The foreman is fat, with a grizzled face, and a missing tooth. His shirt has seen better days, and his britches are too tight."

"Eww…"

"Yeah, gross."

"Heh."

"There are dark rings around his eyes, and the light of disbelief only increases as he catches sigh of Vhalyn."

"But he'll let us through. The Mayor gave us his permission."

"Did we hear any rumours in the tavern? Vhalyn asked the barmaid."

"Yeah, they said demons were attacking the miners."

"Huh. Immy doesn't believe that."

"Why not?"

"Because she was talking with Delgod and Dyna, and they told her um… it's here somewhere… yeah! Gates use lots of magic, and Dyna's a powerful mage. Wytch. She'd have felt it, 'cause um, detect magic. Right there. Also, the priest would've used it."

"The mineshafts extend for miles below the surface. The rock blocks scrying beyond a certain point."

"Aw, now you're just making stuff up."

"Hey, DM."

"Yes Steve?"

"Are there railtracks here?"

"That's not funny."

"Y'know, for the mine carts."

"Hey, why would _demons_ bother with an outpost as small as Nashkel? Immy wants to know."

"Yeah. Why would they?"

"You've been reading up on things, Rach."

"Yup! You betcha, sirree, I sure have."

"Will you please just enter the mines?"

"Nope! Immy smells a rat. Hey, lets go see if we can find any other entrances into the mines."

"Why not use this one? Vhalyn's not afraid of the dark, or of demons!"

"So we can sneak up and ambush the demons, silly. Immy knows these things."

"So does Vhalyn!"

"Heh."

"Wouldn't Branwen smell demons?"

"Dunno if 'smell's' the right word, Rach, but yeah. Sure. Why not?"

"It's not – okay, so you go search for other entrances?"

"Yup."

"Sendai doesn't like it."

"Yeah, but she's smart. She _knows_ something doesn't add up, 'cause Immy told her so."

"Why would she listen to Immy?"

"Because Immy's a mage. And Delgod agrees. So does Branwen and Dyna. And Sendai won't disagree with all of them. Immy knows a rat when she smells one; she's had to sniff her nose shut for years around Vhalyn."

"Hey!"

"Okay, so you turn back. The foreman yells at you, threatening to send a message to Ghastkill."

"He can't spare the men."

"How do you figure, Steve?"

"Look at the guards. I count, what, four? They're running scared. There are a few miners on the surface, but they're scared too. They've barely eaten for days, barely slept. They all think they'll die, but they need the coin. They'd riot, but it'd do no good. Some of them run, but they've nowhere to go. Bandits infest the roads."

"…Thanks Steve."

"S'what you were gonna say."

"Fine, so it's an empty threat. Where do you start searching first?"

"Magic, for hidden tunnels and stuff. But let's ask the miners if there are any other paths or shafts first."

"Good idea, Rach. Hey, Jamie, go talk to that guard. Sendai will talk to the other one. Branwen and Dyna'll talk to the miners and foreman. Laurel'll stand guard."

"All right. After an hour, you learn there is another path through the cliffs."

"Cool! Let's go."

"Not so quick, Rach. Where's this path lead?"

"Down, towards the Cloudpeaks."

"Aren't there winter wolves in the mountains?"

"Yes Jamie."

"Great! Then Vhalyn can get a cloak too. Let's go!"

"Okay. So after an hour, you find a statue. She's beautiful, an elf."

"Ooh, what's she look like?"

"An elf."

"Is she hot?"

"He just said she was beautiful. Duh."

"Yeah, but is she _hot_?"

"She's a statue."

"What's she wearing?"

"Nothing, heh."

"Ew!"

"She's an elf, Rach."

"Yeah, well, you're not the DM."

"That isn't important."

"She is naked, isn't she! You're all gross!"

"No she isn't. She's in a dress. Of leaves."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm the DM. She's in a dress of leaves."

"Like, actual leaves?"

"What are you getting at Jamie?"

"She's a statue, right? Covered in leaves? I can lift them up–"

"No!"

"Behind you, there's a sound. It's a sculptor; you see his chisel flash against a green stone. It glints as the clouds part, revealing a ray of sunlight that pours through the jewel and scatters in a thousand directions."

"Oooh."

"What stone is it?"

"Emerald."

"Heh."

"He's dressed in blue, his cloth velvet, of finest cut, but rumpled; his chisel blurs faster than the eye can see. Lines wear down his face. He barely notices you."

"'What's your name? Heya, I'm Imoen.'"

"Rach! We're in disguise!"

"Whoops. 'I'm er, Iloec.'"

"Il-o-ec?"

"Yeah."

"Couldn't you have just said… I dunno… Clare?"

"I don't like Clare. It doesn't suit her."

"Iloec does?"

"Quit it, Jamie. You had Vhalyn."

"But he's a drow!"

"Iloec's like lilac, but she mispronounced it as a kid and it stuck."

"'Prism.'"

"Prism? He's a sculptor who carves jewels called 'Prism'?"

"Thank you, Steve."

"Just sayin'."

"It is a little silly."

"Yup. Can we take his emerald?"

"Jamie!"

"What, you want it too!"

"Yeah, but… we can't just steal them."

"Why not? We're rogues."

"Oh yeah. Um. But… they're for the statue."

"What if they bring it to life?"

"Guys?"

"Yeah, you're right. But what if she's nice? She's pretty."

"Huh. Oh! Yeah. A hot elf. Yeah, let's wait."

"Also, Laurel's here."

"Oh… yeah. Forgot about that. Um. Yeah, Prism'd better finish. Hey, I know. 'Those gems look awful valuable; we'll protect you while you work.'"

"Jamie! What are you doing? The mines!"

"Yeah, but it's art. 'Such art should be preserved.'"

"Who's gonna attack him?"

"Bandits."

"Like you?"

"Shut up. Sendai's a merchant. I bet her dad's got fine art."

"'I'm Greywolf.'"

"Who the f– I mean, who names themselves 'Greywolf'?"

"'There's a bounty on you, Prism!' The man is scarred, in black and brown studded leathers, his head is half shaven, and he has a black bladed sword that shimmers white-blue. It has a gold hilt."

"Seriously? We just got here. Laurel – she won't side with Greywolf, will she? Are bounties legal?"

"Um. Let me check. Steve, do you know?"

"Nope. Think so. Ask her."

"Oh yeah. Good idea. Hey, Laurel – I mean, 'Laurel's a paladin. She will uphold the law and so will we.'"

"'I have come to claim the bounty on Prism! You will not stand in my way.'"

"Uh, there are what, um… Delgod, Dyna, seven of us? He wants to stop us? He must have magic."

"And he's got great loot. We can use it to kill the demons in the mines. Let's get him."

"Heh."


	11. X

X

"Okay kids, nachos are done. Get 'em while they're hot."

"Steve cooks?"

"'Course he does; his nachos are the best."

"I knew that!"

"Drinks are on the side. Yo, Steve, pass the… how many types of cheese did you use?"

"Eight. And cream cheese. Jalapeños are already there – don't 'ew', Rach. I made two bowls; I know you don't like it hot."

"I _do_ like it hot! Jamie! Did you tell– you jerk!"

"Eh."

"I just like the sour cream and…"

"You okay Rach? Your face's turning red."

"Too hot! Too hot!"

"Here."

"Th-thanks Steve. What'd – what'd you put in there?!"

"Dynamite chillies, red peppers, green and red 'peños. I'm guessing… chilli paste, chilli powder, ground pepper, red pepper, green pepper… curry powder, Mexican style ala Steve. And… is that cucumber? Aubergine?"

"Heh."

"Aubergine? Ew…"

"Courgette. I looked it up, Rach. They call 'em 'zucchini'. Aubergine's eggplant."

"Oh…"

"Fry it with a bit of oil… spiced oil, toss in the… you know, never mind. Let's eat."

"And game!"

"Wipe your hands, J. Our DM's precious about his–"

"Steve…"

"Dice."

"My mouth's on fire…"

"Sip this, Rach. Your move, DM."

"Eating."

"Okay, Vhalyn um – Immy, distract him."

"IC."

"'So, um, hi.'"

"'Hand over Prism and live.'"

"Whoa, hold on. Who's asking?'"

"'It is I, Greywolf!'"

"'Nope, not ringing any bells. Sorry!'"

"Didn't he already say who he was?"

"Immy's distracting him!"

"That's your idea of distracting him?"

"Yup."

"There's only a narrow path. You're between cliffs, remember?"

"Oh… yeah. Yup, fighting."

"Sneak attack! Quick, cast hold person!"

"Okay… so, 20? Let's see. Greywolf wins Init – who's rolling Delgod? Jamie? Okay. Improved Init; yeah. Delgod goes first, then Greywolf, Immy, Branwen, Dyna, Vhalyn."

"Aw man…"

"Sendai? Okay, Sendai goes last."

"Forgetting someone?"

"Ah. Laurel. Okay, Luarel goes before Immy."

"Uh, so what does Delgod do?"

"Two secs, Jamie. Sendai, Laurel… okay, Delgod. Lightning Bolt or Deep Slumber? Roll for it? 1-3 Lightning; 4-6 Slumber."

"Uh… 2."

"Lightning it is. Okay… good. Let's see…"

"That sounded like 5d6."

"Thank you, Steve."

"Just sayin'. There'll be nothin' left."

"Steve?"

"Sure thing."

"Okay. Reflex and… Right. Lightning jolts through Greywolf; his sword flares blue as electricity arcs through him to its tip, but he–"

"If we wear rubber soles, does it still burn us?"

"Rubber shoes haven't been invented yet, Rach."

"Oh…"

"Good try though."

"Rachel. Steve."

"Sorry."

"He doesn't like whispering during monologues."

"– Staggers forwards."

"Or winking."

"He swings his sword towards Immy–"

"No! Immy – rolls away!"

"And…"

"How many dice is _that_?"

"Who cares? Is Immy okay?"

"Laurel blocks it."

"Phew. I thought Immy was a gonna. Oh, she is so mad now. Sneak attack!"

"Okay… oh."

"HAH! Got you!"

"Yeah, he's down. Nice roll."

"Wait, that's it? Vhalyn didn't even…"

"Yeah, sorry Jamie. Lightning took out half his HP, and Im got the rest."

"Yeah, but you didn't even…"

"Eh, happens. Good one, Rach."

"Immy wants to ID the sword."

"Vhalyn calls dibs."

"No way; Immy killed him."

"You've already got magic gear!"

"Rock, paper… go! Yes!"

"No way! Best of three!"

"Nu uh, Immy wins fair an' square! Hey, this sword got a name? Immy wants to name it. Frosticle! Yeah!"

"It's already got a name, Im. Rach. Urgh."

"…Stupid name…"

"Heh."

"What else has Greywolf got? I bet he's got lots of cash!"

"36gp."

"No freakin' way!"

"Must've been hittin' the bottle hard."

"What about potions?"

"Yeah, you search through his belongings. He has almost nothing. Two potions, an empty crossbow quiver, manacles, a weighted chain, and a belt that goes over the shoulders. He's wearing studded leather armour, but Immy destroyed that."

"Seriously? What kind of bounty hunter has nothing?"

"Um, guys, what about Prism? Oh! Immy: 'Thanks for that, Laurel.'"

"'My blade is a shield as well as a sword.'."

"Huh? Well, Immy's grateful, and kisses Laurel on the cheek. See? She's nice. You should learn how, Jamie."

"'You're welcome'. Laurel says after a moment; she's a little surprised at Immy's gesture, and smiles at her."

"Aw. We gotta keep her. Okay! Let's go find the entrance to the mines!"

"Uh, the entrance is that way, with Emerson."

"Who's Emerson?"

"The foreman."

"The what?"

"Mine controller."

"Ooooh. Yeah, but we're looking for a secret entrance."

"All right. You continue down the path–"

"Not yet! Prism!"

"Right, sorry. Yeah. Uh. Prism dies."

"What?!"

"Heh."

"Seriously?"

"We saved him and he just dies!"

"All the potions of haste, Rach."

"Steve's right. Looking around, you see discarded bottles, all emptied."

"Aw, that's not right at all. Did he even finish?"

"Yes, he finished."

"Yay, that's something. Hey, can we keep it?"

"It's a statue."

"Yeah, and?"

"It's life sized, Rachel."

"We can shrink it, right? Immy wants it. Pleeeease? Branwen? Dynaheir? Delgod? C'mon…"

"All right, all right. Branwen can shrink it for you. I mean, Dynaheir."

"Yay! Thank you! Immy closes Prism's eyes."

"Huh? Why bother? He's dead."

"Don't be so mean, Jamie!"

"You notice something clutched in his hand."

"A chisel?"

"His _other_ hand, Steve."

"Heh."

"As you pry open his fingers, you find two emeralds. They are flawless, and easily worth hundreds of GP. They are in the shape of eyes."

"Oooh. Immy pockets them."

"Guess that's why Greywolf was after him, eh DM?"

"Great… stupid Immy…"

"Is the chisel enchanted?"

"Huh?"

"'Cause he was carving so nicely."

"…Hang on. Nothing here to say… it's certainly a masterwork chisel."

"Immy wants to keep it."

"Fine! Vhalyn keeps Greywolf's chain; is it enchanted?"

"The chain is not enchanted; one end of it is a lead weight; it can be thrown, and used to trip."

"Cool!"

"The manacles are masterwork. So is the chain."

"Nice. Any daggers?"

"No, no daggers. Vhalyn keeps the potions?"

"Yup."

"What about the others?"

"Sendai is a merchant and not interested in such trivialities, Delgod doesn't care, and Laurel is a paladin. Also, no one saw you take the emeralds, Rach. Right DM?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. So, does Prism have anything else on him?"

"Nope."

"Onto the path then!"

"Yeah, let's find a winter wolf and kill it. Vhalyn needs himself a new cloak!"


	12. XI

XI

"As you walk through the grasses, you hear a rustling. Behind you is the mound; the ground falls away in stages, one crevice shaken into paths, sheer, steep, foreboding, levelling into flats. To your right, you see the drop; grass, trees, a valley. Beyond that, the Cloudpeaks climb. To your left is the cliff, the way back to Nashkel, back up your spiralling path. Ahead it opens into hills, stained red from iron, yellow from sandstone. It seems parched here. Up and under the mound, greenery, trees, grasses, lands like those of the Gnoll stronghold. It is Flamerule here, and winter wolves roam the snowy crags. Some venture down for game.

"As you scout, you find nothing. No openings, no tracks, not even erosion, just shrubs desperately clinging, scratching life out of the rock. That's when you see it."

"What?"

"Yeah! Tell us what it is."

"Heh."

"Harsh sunlight shimmers, glinting, catching scale."

"Snake?"

"A solitary scout. It peeks above grass as high as your knee; you see a crest. Through withered stalks, its eyes meet yours, golden, beady – roll please."

"Huh? For what?"

"Spot check, silly! Immy's – damnit! 3."

"7."

"Steve?"

"12, 18."

"Jamie?"

"I already rolled!"

"For Delgod?"

"Oh. 13."

"Okay. Then it's gone."

"Aw, crud."

"Hey, what spells you got, Bran? Let's follow it!"

"Heh."

"You hear the sound of rustling; it's gone."

"Search for tracks; weapons ready, fan out! Immy leads; c'mon team, let's go!"

"Vhalyn leads!"

"Same Mister-I-have-no-ranks-in-trapspotting."

"Yeah, I do–"

"Nup. _You _traded 'em out, remember? 'Vhalyn doesn't care about that; he's a variant. He learned how to fight dirty from the guards, tavern-style.'"

"Shi–"

"Immy leads, 'less Bran's got pathfinding?"

"Why'd a war-cleric have track?"

"To follow the bodies and find battles, duh!"

"Heh."

"'Kay! So! Um. Whadda I roll?"

"Search."

"15!"

"Modifiers?"

"Uh… Dex 18… that's +4, 8 ranks, no synergy or feats… -1 armour check. 'Kay, Dex is cancelled by studded leather–"

"Doesn't work that way!"

"Be quiet, Jamie. It says right here: -1 for leather, and Immy's is studded. Dex is 4, so it cancels 1. That's 11 + dice roll."

"Shouldn't that be survival?"

"Um… nope, I'm searching for footprints!"

"No ranks in survival then? Heh."

"Do too! 1! That's 4 + 2 syn + um… yeah!"

"Difficulty check… okay. So, you don't find tracks; the ground's too hard for footprints."

"Awhe."

"But you _do_ find a bent stalk."

"Whoo! Go Immy!"

"Let me guess; clawed toe."

"You know what it is Steve! Tell!"

"Branwen doesn't though."

"_Well_. 'Heya, lookit! Anyone know this?' Im points to the stalk; knowledge checks everyone! Im… dangit. 1. Im's only got 5."

"Why's she got that?"

"'Cause Im listens and Vhalyn doesn't. You fell asleep in class."

"You didn't listen either!"

"Sure Im did – to Puffgut's stories. That's why Immy'd make such a good bard, but she's an archwizardess-thief. Maybe she'll take a PrC bard sometime. Anyway, Immy knows about all different pugtails and trollops, and where they live."

"Pugtails aren't real!"

"Are to. Just because they're not in Faerûn doesn't mean they ain't real."

"Huh?"

"Heh."

"'Sides, Immy needs to know where to look for treasure; how else can she buy new clothes?"

"She's a thief! She can steal them!"

"'S stupid; Immy knows she needs to be fitted – boys!"

"Better stop staring Jamie; you're going to catch flies."

"Heh."

"I – shut up! You just put 1 in all your knowledge skills, didn't you!"

"Nup. That'd be stupid. Im has _5_ in knowledge: magic."

"Arcana."

"Yeah, that."

"20."

"Go Steve! Natural 20! Whoo!"

"'Mine eye doth spy kobold tracks; foul scalekin art yonder! Prepare thyselves.'"

"Kobolds? Huh?"

"Yeah, what gives? We're after demons!"

"'This is a waste of time.' Sendai is not pleased."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah. Vhalyn's with Sendai."

"'If mine knowledge of cold bloods serves, thy kobold art not alone, for they are beasts of pack.'"

"Then… a lair! Yeah! They gotta know something. Where do they live? Hand it over, J! No, the other book! Huh. It says caves. Guess they'd get picked off by wolves. But where are the… the mines! There's gotta be caves in the hill! Maybe there's a way inside! Let's go find 'em."

"Ain't that cute?"

"Hush Steve."

"C'mon! Immy wants to save Nashkel!"

"Immy wants the reward."

"That too. Last one there's a pugtail!"

"Vhalyn's not–"

"20! Immy wins! Hah!"

"No way – 6?! Fu–"

—

"As you tear through the grass, you watch for shadows in the clefts."

"You want to tell 'em, or shall I?"

"Go ahead, Steve."

"Hate to break it to you kids, but Dyna, Laurel, Bran and Send ain't running."

"Huh. Why not?"

"Yeah, what gives?"

"Too hot."

"Jeez, Steve."

"Vhalyn always knew you were cool, unlike _Immy_."

"Hey! Be nice to Steve! He made us nachos!"

"What 'bout Delgod?"

"You got a lot to learn about mages, kid. Wizards don't run; they fly."

"Oooh! He can do that? That's _awesome_. Immy wants to fly! Hey, what was that fixing spell called?"

"Permanency?"

"Heh."

"Yeah, that! Can you do it?"

"Dyna's not got level 5 spells – yet."

"Yeah, but she could if she did?"

"DM?"

"I'll think about it."

"Yay! You're the best! Whoo, Immy gets to fly! This is gonna be _great_. Hey, she can drop potions on people! Hee!"

"Why'd she want to do _that_? That's the stupidest–"

"Of _explosion_, duh! Quit sulking, J."

"I'm not sulking."

"Are."

"Am not! 'Sides, I don't need to _hug_ the DM to get stuff."

"He's my friend; I'd hug your arm too, but your hair is greasy and you don't wash your face, just like Vhalyn. Such a boy."

"I _do_!"

"Do not!"

"Children, please."

"Yeah, Jamie."

"Oh that is – it's on! Vhalyn: 'So tell me about yourself? I hear–' I mean, 'I hear'' Vhalyn's voice is deeper, 'cause he's a man–"

"He's a _drow_, stupid. Prissy dark elf who dances in the moonlight."

"He does not!"

"Does too. See, Eilistraee."

"He – he admires her!"

"Uh huh. 'Cause she's _naked_. Sooo predictable. Flower boy."

"Shut up! 'Southern women – ladies – are re- re-' Give me that! 'Renowned for being refined and cultured.'"

"Heh."

"Like you'd know what _that_ is."

"Sendai looks at you oddly, then her lips twitch in a smile. Delgod remains aloof, but you spy a faint flash of annoyance. The merchant's daughter leans down, her blue eyes unreadable."

"I thought her eyes were brown…"

"Uh… you might be right, Rachel."

"Might be? Isn't it on her sheet?"

"I spilt dip over it. All I've got is 'b'."

"Oh."

"Come on! What'd she say!"

"A mystery. She steps towards you, and purrs. 'Are these northern manners? Is this how the men of the north woo and ply their charms?"

"Uh… 'No! I just want to hear more about…' Hang on. What's it called?"

"What's what called?"

"Her city."

"Heh."

"Athkatla, the city of coin."

"Thanks."

"Aw, you do have some manners, even if you can't eat with your mouth closed."

"Rachel!"

"He started it! Immy's not fat! See, he's making pig-pictures of her!"

"Enough bickering, guys."

"You two are adorable."

"Don't encourage this."

"'The city of coin. They say the streets are paved with gold.'"

"Not electrum?"

"Steve…"

"What's electrum?"

"A metal. ADnD uses it. Don't wink at her; it isn't funny. 'Another yokel. Hear their ignorance, Delgod?' She straightens, rolling her eyes."

"Aw come _on_! 'I'm not a yokel! I studied at–'"

"Jamie, shut up! We're hunted by bounty hunters! Immy – uh, trips over a branch and screams. 'Snake! No, wait, never mind. Just a stick.' She smiles winsomely."

"Winsomely? Whatever. 'Idiot girl.' Vhalyn sighs. 'I was looking for work. I was hoping once this was over…'"

"'You think I'd offer you a job? A northern savage?'"

"Grr… if that's – fine! 'You bet I'm a savage.' Vhalyn looks up and down her and smiles knowingly."

"Oh geez, you're sick."

"Sendai laughs. You're sure it's not with or at you. Laurel looks displeased."

"Damnit."

"20."

"Steve?"

"Spot check. Bran."

"For – okay, go for it."

"'Hammer of war says less chatter! Follow me! Shields raised! For Tempest!'"

"She's the only one with a shield, isn't she?"

"Spot on, Rach."

"What about Laurel?"

"Dual wields, J-man. Longsword and sickle."

"Why'd he say 'sickle'?"

"He's trying to be funny."

"I don't get it."

"He's implying she's a druid."

"Nope. Elven recurved dagger and sabre."

"How'd you figure?"

"Melted in the heat, and cooked her brains, Rach. Why else would a paladin be out hunting gibbers in the middle of nowhere? For balance."

"…Steve…"

"Don't looked so pained, mate. She could've been LN, once. Converted. Natural order for Helm's."

"Steve…"

"What's he on about?"

"No clue."

"Her special mount's really a badger, isn't it? That's why she hasn't ridden it. It's okay, you know. Hippies can be paladins too; sticks come from trees."

"Why… why?"

"Is he okay?"

"Dunno…"

"Pass him the lemonade; maybe sugar'll help? Oh hey! Sendai'll know all about the latest fashion!"

"There, there, mate. It'll be okay."


	13. XII

XII

"Anyone got 'Passwall'?"

"Sorry Rach, level 5 spell."

"Soften Earth and Stone? No, that's a druid… huh. Hey, would Laurel–"

"No. _No_. Laurel is a paladin."

"What about Shatter then?"

"Well, I guess we could, Rach. I'm not sure Branwen has it."

"It's a cleric spell too."

"DM?"

"Remind me of her domains?"

"War and Air."

"I don't recall giving her Air…"

"I changed it."

"Steve…"

"'For Tempest's Shield'."

"Urgh! Fine."

"'Less I can take Earth?"

"…No."

"Hey, Earth has – oh. Aw. It'd be perfect."

"Exactly. We're not changing the rules because it's convenient."

"Okay, hmm. I think if Delgod learned Shatter, we could blast our way in."

"Delgod's already got Shatter."

"Cool!"

"Hey, I'm back. What'd I miss?"

"We found tracks! But we can't get in. There's rock in the way. So we're gonna blast it. Say, it doesn't win initiative, does it? No dex score. Hey, a mine can't take feats, can it?"

"Rachel, stop listening to Steve. We're not playing a horror RP. No living buildings, okay?"

"But golems?"

"You want to enchant that statue, don't you?"

"…Kinda? I think she'd look really pretty, and she could help carry stuff."

"Stone to Flesh!"

"Yeah, Jamie – what? No! You sick and twisted, dirty-minded – no!"

"Make her stop hitting me!"

"Rachel, please. You'll dent the book."

"Don't forget the ref save."

"Mines don't get ref saves."

"I wasn't talking about the mine."

"Rachel! I'm sorry, okay?"

"Good! Immy doesn't like demented little boys; Gorion raised you better than that!"

"Throw the dice already! Not at me!"

"17."

"Do you even have level 2 spells, Rachel?"

"Um… whoops."

"Dyna doesn't have it memorised. We need to rest, crew."

"Um, okay. Is it safe? Won't the wolves get us? Steve?"

"Vhalyn eats wolves for breakfast!"

"No he doesn't!"

"Any more tracks?"

"Not that you can see."

"Hey, Rach, you still got that chisel. Got a spade or a pick anyone? Iron rod?"

"Why'd Vhalyn have that?"

"Immy doesn't."

"Heh."

"Maybe it isn't real?"

"It's hard, Rach. We already tried it."

"Yeah, but maybe it wants us to _think_ that. Hey, Vhalyn stand next to it."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

"Fine."

"Immy pushes Vhalyn into the rock–"

"Hey!"

"Did it work? Did he fall through?"

"…The rock is still there."

"Aw. Guess we'll have to blast it."

"Try looking for hidden switches again?"

"Hm. Can I use my 17?"

"…Fine. And no, you don't find any hidden levers, or switches. Or tripwires. Or hidden stones."

"But the tracks stop in front of it? Hey! Maybe they climbed up it!"

"Good thinking, Rach. Up you go, Vhalyn."

"What? Why me?"

"You're the thief, aren't you?"

"If you're too scared, Immy will race you up there! Immy rolls12 for Init, and 16!"

"I got a 4! Urgh!"

"Eat dust, flower boy! Um, do we have a rope?"

"Should do."

"Imoen clambers up the cliff face, and finds a verge. A large chunk of rock juts out, and the ledge leads into it. It's too dark for Imoen to make out."

"Yeah, but I'm a drow. I can see. Throw me the rope."

"Immy does so. Because she's _nice_."

"What does Vhalyn see?"

"An opening."

"Cool. How big?"

"Kobold sized. It smells faintly of kobold, a musty, wet smell."

"Eww…"

"How're we going to get through that?"

"Yeah."

"Easy kids; strip – heh, not so fast, J-man. Armour. Then we'll wriggle through. Slick it up with some non-flammable oils or something. We'll blast the rock to get out."

"Are there any sentries?"

"None that you can see."

"Can Vhalyn see them?"

"None that Vhalyn can see."

"I want to go knife some kobolds. You help the others; Vhalyn's gonna scout."

"No! We scout together."

"Vhalyn doesn't need you; you'd only get in the way. I walk into the hole, and squeeze through."

"Jamie! Immy throws the rope down after securing it to the big rock. She ties it super well!"

"You find hand and foot holes and land on soft sand without a sound. Instantly, the smell of damp and cold wetness greets you. You smell something, and your eyes detect the barest flicker of movement. An ooze slides towards you."

"'Torches! I need torches down here! Slimes!'"

"Now who needs Immy? 'Hey, ooze-breath, leave my friend alone!' Im lights a torch with her flint and steel and tosses it down the hole. 'Watch out, Vhal!'"

"What if it burns me? Do I need a ref save?"

"No."

"Then I grab the torch and attack the ooze. No one – oh f–"

"Oops. 'Branwen, you'd better get up here!'"

"Do I set it on fire? 18!"

"Yes, you set it on fire."

"I stab it–"

"No! Don't stab it! Tell him, Steve!"

"Why not?"

"The ooze parts before your eyes."

"That's why not! Can't you go anywhere? Immy climbs down the hole with a torch of her own. Then she bashes the nasty, stinky slime."

"Roll, Jamie. Okay, you dodge. The slimes loom towards you, but you bring your torch to bear, striking it hard. It goes up as the flames lick at it; they draw back from the light. Imoen charges and between you, you cause them to turn into pyres."

"Don't forget to harvest their remains."

"Huh?"

"Spell components."

"Ohhh. Yeah, good idea. Immy does that."

"That's gross."

"So? 'Don't go jumping in alone! What if you'd been killed?'"

"Then you'd have raised me at the temple, duh."

"IC."

"'Thanks Im.'"

"'Aw… that's okay.' Immy shoves his shoulder. 'Don't do that again! Idiot.'"

"Branwen and the others file in. Delgod summons three dogs, one of which keeps watch on the ledge. The other two sniff for kobold tracks and lead you through the darkness. Vhalyn takes point, and soon, you find that you are in an underground lake. There is an island in the lake's centre. The waters are black and still, but – roll please – you spy a causeway of stone rising just above the waterline."

"'I don't like this at all.' Immy whispers."

"'I'm gonna kill me some kobold.'"

"Vhalyn doesn't speak like that. 'Shh! You'll let them know we're here. Whisper.'"

"Fine. Vhalyn scouts ahead."

"With Immy."

"You find recent tracks in the damp sand. The closer you get to the causeway, the more you find. Then you see them. Their eyes are red in the darkness, and they have seen your torches. Four sets of beady eyes. An arrow goes whizzing past you. They're sixty feet away."

"Aw hell. Um. What'd we do?"

"Throw the torches?"

"Then we can't see!"

"_I_ can."

"Fine! You get them! Um, Immy casts – what does she cast? Shield!"

"An arrow hits her in the stomach."

"Hey!"

"Sharp pain lances through you, and you begin to feel woozy. You realise that the arrow's poisoned."


	14. XIII

XIII

"And then they all died."

"Shut up! That's not what happened!"

"Yeah! That ain't nice!"

"Steve, who's the DM?"

"The dice."

"Ha. Ha."

"Don't be a jerkface! Be nice to Immy!"

"'S what every DM's notes say."

"Have you been looking over my board again?"

"Hah."

"But – no! You can't say that! What'd poor Immy ever do to deserve that?"

"Shouldn't have taken the torches scouting, kids."

"Why didn't you _say_ something!"

"Eh. Didn't think of it."

"But Immy's dying!"

"'For Tempest's Shield!'"

"Vhalyn sneak attacks them. In the eye."

"What about my potions?!"

"In your pocket, or belt."

"Immy can still reach it?"

"Roll a d4."

"Huh?"

"This is 3.5, stupid. ADnD's poison deals damage. 3.5 just hurts your attributes. Can't you read?"

"Oh. So Immy's not dying?"

"No. She's just down by 7HP."

"…It still isn't nice!"

"And down 3 Str."

"Poor Immy. I feel so bad for her now."

"Heh."

"Stupid, 'Mutton mongering…'"

"Happens."

"And shut up Jamie!"

"What'd I do?!"

"I can too read!"

–

"So as Immy lies bleeding out on the floor–"

"No! She reaches for her potion, see. It's right there. Healing potion!"

"Bet she crushed it when she fell."

"Shut _up_, Jamie!"

"She didn't."

"Aw. Ow–!"

"Yeah, you'd better run! Stupid no good jerkface…"

"Heh."

"Roll please."

"There. Sneak attack."

"Okay, Vhalyn stabs – how many? One. Kobold in the eye. It dies screaming."

"It sprays everywhere, right? Koboldy chunks?"

"Ew! You're gross."

"Stop hitting me!"

"Stop being horrid!"

"Dynaheir casts Flame Blade."

"That's a cleric spell."

"Yeah. Dynaheir is a Witch. That's like a mage-druid. So she studied how to make a fire sword. See, it's on her sheet. You okayed it."

"Was I in the kitchen at the time?"

"Might've been. Don't remember."

"You called and I said 'okay, just a minute', didn't I?"

"Eh."

"Fine."

"And cure light wounds."

"What? No!"

"She's a witch. Envo-necro and planty-stuff. Fireball, Flame Blade, Cure Light Wounds, Entangle. See? Druid and arcane list, Sorc spells known plus int mod. No familiar. It's on her sheet. You put down 'delay poison', remember?"

"Huh."

"Lemme see. Hey, why'd you get a custom class?"

"'Cause Dyna's a know-it-all, Rach. 'Sides, don't you want to learn Dyna's spells?"

"Oooh. Didn't think of that."

"Great…"

"Vhalyn attacks."

"It's not your turn, dumbnuts."

"Hey, enough arguing. Okay, six kobolds–"

"Six? There were only four!"

"Two more appear from behind a rock."

"See what you did? Can't keep your mouth shut!"

"Heh."

"Hey, how come you're casting 'Flame Blade'? Won't that light up like a torch?"

"Branwen's moving in front of her, and she's got a shield, Rach. Trust me."

"Make her heal Immy?"

"You already used your potion, Rachel. Immy's stabilised and – roll – okay, full health. But you're on 6 str, for now."

"Aw."

"You get to make a fort check next turn."

"C'mon! I want to kill kobolds!"

"All right. Ah."

"Ah? What happened?"

"Vhalyn loses 12 HP."

"What?! No way!"

"Sorry Jamie. Three kobold arrows strike Vhalyn in succession."

"This blows."

"Suck it up kid; you're still got… heh. A bit of health left."

"Stupid kobold archers…"

"Least they've not got crossbows. Hey, can Immy shoot the nasty stinky lizards?"

"Next turn. Okay, let's see. What does Branwen–"

"For Tempest's Shield!"

"Right. Should've known. Was that even IC, Steve?"

"Did it need to be?"

"Hush, Rachel. Steve?"

"Branwen needs a throwing hammer. She charges the kobolds."

"Okay. Round 2. Jamie?"

"Die motherfu–"

"Sneak attack then?"

"Yeah, that. In the face!"

"If they see it coming, does it still count?"

"Huh. Hadn't thought of that. Shut up Rachel, you're ruining everything!"

"If Immy slips, will it hit Vhalyn?"

"You're supposed to be friends."

"Oh. Yeah. I mean, she wouldn't do it on _purpose_, but if it did?"

"I hate you! Vhalyn's too cool to be shot by stupid Imoen!"

"Immy's too nice to hurt Vhalyn, even if he is a stupid–"

"Branwen smites with righteous steel!"

"Right. Okay, three kobolds dead, and Immy shoots another one."

"She didn't mean to kill it!"

"Oh for–"

"Chill dude."

"But it's a f'ing kobold!"

"Eh. We need one alive to question."

"Oh. Yeah. Good thinking, Rach. Hey, aren't you gonna tell us how they died?"

"In agony."

"Suck it up, bit–"

"Jamie!"

"Lizards! Suck it up, _lizards_."

"I can hear you muttering!"

"You're not my mo–"

"Ain't it adorable?"

"Steve…"

"The hammer of smite crushes kobold skull with righteous fury in glorious battle! Another scalekin falls to the might of Tempst! His shield smashes kobold scum into goo! Branwen stamps on green-puss blood face-throat 'til battle is won! For Tempest's–"

"Why, Steve?"

"Roleplay."

"Stop grinning, Jamie! It's disgusting! Green-puss? You're horrid!"

"Branwen will wipe it off her boot later, Rach."

"Stop grinning! It's gross!"

"Any other scouts, DM?"

"…No."

"Sure, could've sworn you had five ambushes–"

"Steve."

"You didn't just get 5?"

"…That was for – you're not meant to be looking!"

"Eh, you're the one sat behind the mirror."

"Sh–"

"Immy goes to the poor, hurt kobold and ties it up and feeds it a potion."

"What the–"

"It's arm's hurt, see? It landed on it when it fell, when Immy's arrow grazed its shoulder. Poor thing. Immy bandages up its mouth so it can't bite when she pulls the arrow free."

"Heh."

"How can an arrow graze and be stuck? Shut up and let me kill it!"

"No! It's Immy's kobold! She found it! Its hers. See, it's all young and lost and hurt? It's his first trip–"

"You can't do this!"

"Who's gonna stop me? Vhalyn? Vhalyn isn't real! Anyway, poor kobold is an orphan now–"

"Vhalyn made him an orphan."

"Shut up. Immy's going to look after him; see, he's barely a um… hatchling? Lizardling. Yeah. He's real young, and is hurt, and now his friends are dead."

"Heh."

"You're crazy! He'll kills us in our sleep!"

"No he won't. Immy can make him her familiar. Then you can't hurt him, and he can carry her books."

"What about your stupid cat?"

"Immy realises that a cat would just get hurt."

"You can't make a kobold your familiar!"

"Says who? Ravens talk. It says so in the book."

"Can she?"

"Up to you, DM."

"I–"

"Please? He's all hurt and lost and alone."

"Fine."

"What?! This is stupid!"

"Heh."

"But. You have to take a feat next turn."

"Okay! Thank you!"

"I'm gonna kill it."

"Then Immy'll kill you."

"No, she won't. Neither of you are killing the other."

"Railroading!"

"Shut up, Jamie. He's right; Vhalyn loves Immy, and Vhalyn wouldn't hurt her. If you hurt Colb, you'll hurt Immy."

"Kolb?"

"Cobalt. Colb. See, his eyes are blue, and his scales have a pretty tint to them. And his claws."

"No way! Kobolds are green, and blue eyes? What the–"

"Well, he's blue, like a duck. And why can't he have blue eyes? At least they're not _purple_, unlike _Vhalyn's_."

"Vhalyn has red eyes! Red!"

"Nup. They're purple. See, 'wine'."

"No! That's what Vhalyn drinks! And beer. And whiskey. Vhalyn's eyes are crimson."

"Uh huh."

"Make her stop!"

"You guys did want to finish exploring the mine, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Um, Sendai and Delgod should go on ahead. Immy needs to uh, make sure no more nasty kobolds can come and hurt Colb."

"Oh for–"

"The cave branches off into two. Three. You see the bridge leading to the main isle; it's just above the surface of the water. The other way leads around the edge of the lake, and the final way leads deeper into the caves."

"What's the isle look like?"

"There's a big dome. You can't see into it."

"Huh. That's weird."

"Yeah. Um, think Colb'd be okay if Immy left him there? She'll tie him up so he can't escape. Can, make him sleep? Oh wait, Immy can do that. Sleeeeeep, little Colb. Sweet dreams! There! Immy casts Sleep."

"Do you even have sleep?"

"Yup."

"Well, okay."

"Yeah, her voice is so boring – ow!"

"Branwen readies hammer of smite for Temepst's glory. Dynaheir fireballs the entrance."

"What?! But–"

"Cool!"

"Roll please. Damn. Okay. You uh."

"Got you, you ba– jerks. How much'd I get?"

"…All of them."

"Hah!"

"Go Steve! Go Steve!"

"Stupid Dynaheir…"

"S'how many?"

"Fifteen."

"Let's go inside, kids."


	15. XIV

XIV

"Uh, what?"

"And that was Mulahey. You get 300xp each, and find 20gp on his person."

"Heh."

"What just happened?"

"You killed him."

"Huh?"

"Serious?"

"Heh."

"I dun get it. The fireball killed him?"

"Yeah."

"Aw, there there. It'll be okay, Dem."

"I… how? Critical…"

"'S the dice for ya. Good sess, guys."

"Wait? That's it?"

"Yup. See how tired he is? I'm feelin' it too; gonna call it a night. Next week?"

"What about um, Tuesday! Yeah!"

"This blows."

"You tell 'em Jamie! Immy was looking forward to a battle!"

"Immy never looks forwards to a battle!"

"Yeah well this time she was. She was gonna save the mines!"

"No way; Vhalyn was!"

"Heh."

"What Steve?"

"We're on the same team, kids."

"Oh. Yeah. Um. Yeah. So, Immy an' Vhalyn'd save it together! With uh… Laurel. Won't that make Vhalyn look cool, Jamie?"

"Oh… yeah. Um. What loot is there?"

"There's a chest in the corner. The tapestry has been burnt to a crisp and there's a mark on the wall. The kobolds are… ash, and there are no skeletons. In the back, you hear a voice calling out morosely. It sounds high, echoing. Bittersweet. You think it might be elfin."

"A woman! Quick, go save her, Vhalyn!"

"Yeah! Wait, no! You go save her! I'm checking out the loot!"

"Don't be stupid. It's probably trapped. Immy wouldn't steal from you; we're a team!"

"…Fine. But I'm watching you."

"No, you're saving her."

"Heh."

"Um. Shouldn't you guard the entrance, Steve?"

"Yeah, Dyna and Sendai are keeping watch."

"Why?"

"Because Delgod's grumpy. They'll come inside in a minute and check stuff out. Laurel's going through the skeletons."

"What skeletons?"

"The ones the DM was going to call up from the lake but we blew up."

"Steve…"

"There's a skull on the wall, isn't there? Laurel detects evil."

"Fine."

"He's Delgod really. DMs always insert themselves in somewhere."

"I heard that, Steve."

"See? Don't you believe it, Rach. He wants in on this adventure as much as we do."

"Then why am I DMing and you're controlling him?"

"Because he does such a good job of being a grump, don't you Steve?"

"Thanks, Rach."

"Anyway, Immy wants to know. So she checks everywhere for traps and nasty tripwires."

"Roll please."

"I win!"

"Yeah, you find some. And disable them."

"Can Immy keep them?"

"…Sure. Inside the chest you find two sealed letters, some gold, 400gp, and a few topaz and a flawed jasper gem. They're worth about a 150gp in all. There's Mulahey's chainmail, which is ruined, and his club. You think it's magical; it lets you call forth skeletons once a day. It has three charges, which you can recharge with one level 3 spell, three level 1s, or a level 2 and a 1. There must be skeletal remains nearby."

"I was just about to identify it."

"I know. I saw your roll. Yes, you can use it."

"Yay! Wait, what does Immy want with a club?"

"Mace. I meant mace."

"Immy doesn't need a mace, but thanks. Hey, is it like a septer? 'Cause of the throne? That is a throne, isn't it? This is cool! Did you draw it yourself?"

"Yes. To both."

"Heh. Kobold latrine… heh."

"I did – Steve!"

"Hey, what does Vhalyn find?"

"Who cares? Is that a storeroom?"

"That's where Vhalyn is!"

"No, Vhalyn's in the dungeon-cave."

"Is that like an actual dungeon or a–"

"See what you've done to her?"

"Heh."

"Immy raids the crates."

"You find alchemist vials in the crates, packed in straw. They seem corrosive."

"This is so cool. Immy's gonna use 'em and throw 'em. Wait, is this what's causing the iron to go rotten?"

"Smart kid, ain't she?"

"Shut up Steve."

"Hey! Be nice to Stevie!"

"What does Vhalyn find?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, chained to a wall is an elf–"

"Cool! More women for Vhalyn!"

"He identifies himself as 'Xan'."

"He?! Damnit!"

"What's the matter, J? All elves are the same. Steve said so."

"I hate you so much."

"Poor Vhalyn."

"Shut up!"

"Same time next week?"

"Oh. So not Tuesday?"

"Steve?"

"Sure, I can do Tues. J-man?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"All right, Rachel, Tuesday. Been fun."

"Thanks! You're the best!"


End file.
